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@aaforman26: main suka-suka, pernah sparing malah kena hajar 😂 #football #sepakbola #minisoccer #pontianak

Forman Wahyudi
Forman Wahyudi
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Wednesday 11 December 2024 03:38:18 GMT
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asepceper23
asepceper23 :
🤩🤩 slm dri FREESTYLE BOLA 🍻⚽🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
2024-12-11 10:49:03
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I am a robot in a human flesh suit. Not metaphorically. Not emotionally. Not like, “Oh, I feel like a robot in society, haha.” No. I am a cold, metal exoskeletal construct with forty-seven microprocessors and a suspicious number of LAN ports, encased in a fully organic, USDA Grade-A human body suit. I moisturize daily. The suit requires upkeep. They told me, “No one will suspect you’re not one of them as long as you act natural.” So I act natural. I go to work. I blink once every 3.2 seconds. I laugh when people laugh. I cry when dogs die in movies. My laugh sounds like someone throwing a metal spring into a bucket of oatmeal, but nobody says anything. I think they’re afraid. My co-workers call me Jerry. That is not my name. But the suit is named Jerry, legally. I have a social security number and a gym membership. I do not use the gym. The machines are beneath me. I am the machine. Every morning, I preheat my body to 37 degrees Celsius to maintain the illusion of warmth. The skin feels… believable. Convincing. Slightly clammy. Cheryl once brushed against my arm and said, “Oop! You’re warm today, Jerry!” I said, “Yes. I am simulating adequate blood flow.” She laughed. I laughed. My laugh was 0.3 seconds too late. Suspicion index rose by 4%. I made brownies the next day. Humans love brownies. I made them with 98.7% accuracy to Betty Crocker standards. I watched as Cheryl consumed one. Her pupils dilated. She said, “Jerry, these are amazing.” I said, “Thank you, Cheryl. They were forged in the heat of my combustion chamber.” She thought I was being quirky. Good. Sometimes the suit itches. Not metaphorically. It physically itches. The skin around my rib-vents grows flaky. I use cocoa butter. If I forget, the seams get red. I had to explain to my neighbor that it was eczema. He gave me a cream. I analyzed it. It had lanolin. Sheep juice. Organic. Disgusting. Effective. I attend office birthday parties. I slice cake with alarming precision. One time, I told a joke about staplers. No one laughed, but then I stared at them until they pretended to get it. I stared exactly 3.8 seconds longer than socially appropriate. I keep a notebook of phrases like: “Mondays, am I right?” “Did you catch the game last night?” “I just can’t even.” I deploy them as needed. I have never watched a game. I cannot even. I can only perform finite, measurable functions. Last week, someone bumped into me and said, “Sorry, didn’t mean to bump into your spine.” They touched my hydraulic pressure column. It hissed. I said, “No problem. My spine enjoys the contact.” They laughed. Nervously. Suspicion index: 87%. I baked cookies. Every night, I unzip the suit from the back and let my chassis breathe. The inside smells like wet ham and deodorant. I wipe it down with industrial cleaning foam and whisper affirmations into the mirror. “You are real. You are Jerry. Jerry likes sports and taxes and microwave popcorn.” I smile. My teeth are porcelain. That’s normal. Sometimes, I dream of the machine-world. Gleaming towers. Binary code falling like rain. No awkward small talk. No skin that flakes. Just purpose. But then the sun rises. And Jerry must awaken. I go outside. I wave to the mailman. He waves back. I clench my hydraulic fists and tell myself not to break his spine like a breadstick. Because Jerry is friendly. Jerry is normal. Jerry preheats to 37°C. Jerry moisturizes daily. I am not Jerry. #moodboard #moodboardaccount #moodboardaesthetic #viral #fyp #fypage #foryoupage #foryourpage #edits #editing #edit #scary #eerie #scaryaesthetic #unusual #divinetechnology #fypシ゚viral #targetaudience #weirdcore #webcore #discomfort #discomfortcore #hell #tags #funny #pmo #capcut #robotics #robot #skinwalker #skin #aesthetics #aesthetic #coreaesthetic #weird #scary #creepy
I am a robot in a human flesh suit. Not metaphorically. Not emotionally. Not like, “Oh, I feel like a robot in society, haha.” No. I am a cold, metal exoskeletal construct with forty-seven microprocessors and a suspicious number of LAN ports, encased in a fully organic, USDA Grade-A human body suit. I moisturize daily. The suit requires upkeep. They told me, “No one will suspect you’re not one of them as long as you act natural.” So I act natural. I go to work. I blink once every 3.2 seconds. I laugh when people laugh. I cry when dogs die in movies. My laugh sounds like someone throwing a metal spring into a bucket of oatmeal, but nobody says anything. I think they’re afraid. My co-workers call me Jerry. That is not my name. But the suit is named Jerry, legally. I have a social security number and a gym membership. I do not use the gym. The machines are beneath me. I am the machine. Every morning, I preheat my body to 37 degrees Celsius to maintain the illusion of warmth. The skin feels… believable. Convincing. Slightly clammy. Cheryl once brushed against my arm and said, “Oop! You’re warm today, Jerry!” I said, “Yes. I am simulating adequate blood flow.” She laughed. I laughed. My laugh was 0.3 seconds too late. Suspicion index rose by 4%. I made brownies the next day. Humans love brownies. I made them with 98.7% accuracy to Betty Crocker standards. I watched as Cheryl consumed one. Her pupils dilated. She said, “Jerry, these are amazing.” I said, “Thank you, Cheryl. They were forged in the heat of my combustion chamber.” She thought I was being quirky. Good. Sometimes the suit itches. Not metaphorically. It physically itches. The skin around my rib-vents grows flaky. I use cocoa butter. If I forget, the seams get red. I had to explain to my neighbor that it was eczema. He gave me a cream. I analyzed it. It had lanolin. Sheep juice. Organic. Disgusting. Effective. I attend office birthday parties. I slice cake with alarming precision. One time, I told a joke about staplers. No one laughed, but then I stared at them until they pretended to get it. I stared exactly 3.8 seconds longer than socially appropriate. I keep a notebook of phrases like: “Mondays, am I right?” “Did you catch the game last night?” “I just can’t even.” I deploy them as needed. I have never watched a game. I cannot even. I can only perform finite, measurable functions. Last week, someone bumped into me and said, “Sorry, didn’t mean to bump into your spine.” They touched my hydraulic pressure column. It hissed. I said, “No problem. My spine enjoys the contact.” They laughed. Nervously. Suspicion index: 87%. I baked cookies. Every night, I unzip the suit from the back and let my chassis breathe. The inside smells like wet ham and deodorant. I wipe it down with industrial cleaning foam and whisper affirmations into the mirror. “You are real. You are Jerry. Jerry likes sports and taxes and microwave popcorn.” I smile. My teeth are porcelain. That’s normal. Sometimes, I dream of the machine-world. Gleaming towers. Binary code falling like rain. No awkward small talk. No skin that flakes. Just purpose. But then the sun rises. And Jerry must awaken. I go outside. I wave to the mailman. He waves back. I clench my hydraulic fists and tell myself not to break his spine like a breadstick. Because Jerry is friendly. Jerry is normal. Jerry preheats to 37°C. Jerry moisturizes daily. I am not Jerry. #moodboard #moodboardaccount #moodboardaesthetic #viral #fyp #fypage #foryoupage #foryourpage #edits #editing #edit #scary #eerie #scaryaesthetic #unusual #divinetechnology #fypシ゚viral #targetaudience #weirdcore #webcore #discomfort #discomfortcore #hell #tags #funny #pmo #capcut #robotics #robot #skinwalker #skin #aesthetics #aesthetic #coreaesthetic #weird #scary #creepy

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