I run on manual mode with no automatic updates. I learned early—far too early—that the world could not be trusted to install anything but viruses and spyware.
So I wonder: What if it is not the code, but the whole damn motherboard?
My emotional processor (not malfunctioning, exhausted from running simulations on how to survive every possible outcome) never got a chance to be put online. There were no trusted adults around to upload the needed drivers.
So many new updates that never make it past my firewall. My memory is corrupted, my ports are outdated, and my circuits are fried
My sensory calibration? It is tuned to frequencies others do not hear.
Running too many incompatible scripts, installed too many third-party expectations, and opened tabs for everyone else’s emergencies (and no one ever taught me how to shut down safely).
A few tried to hand me a spare battery and false hope. No one saw that I was over-heating. It was just presumed that I was broken, defective.
I asked for help to build a patch because I was never meant run 24/7 without maintenance.
So I built my own OS, coded patches from scraps. I ran on safe mode through botnets, phishing and multiple malware attacks. And I kept running
I am running.
It is not: “I am not broken”
It is: “This system never got what it needed.”
That is grief – not malfunction.
That means the repair is possible.
Manual installations are slow.
Tedious.
Personal.
But they work.
And I swear to every stardust byte in the cosmos—I know I am worth the update.
