Like a Robot

I've been doing a lot this summer.  More than I have ever done.  I'm glad I'm not terribly bored anymore... But I'm not happy.  I've been pushing and pulling at something that I don't want and what doesn't want me.  I think I enjoy things, but the joy just seems so...empty.  I am like a robot doing things for some important purpose.  Like what? Memories, recognition, physical health, something?  So far, my personal reward jar is just empty. empty.  Robots are empty.  That's why they do stuff they don't enjoy.  Destroying is so much work and so depressing.  I don't think they want to do that.  But somehow they must, and they do it like they'll get great reward out of it.  I want to do things that I really want to do.  I'm trying to break free, but the programing of the cyborg over me is too strong.  Robots are so miserable because they don't have a heart, or at least they have one but don't ever listen to it.  Listen to your heart.
This scetch brings me so much relief to do it, but I wish I hadn't done that ugly blue background on it.  Oh well, I'm lazy.