I am no longer human.
Shit…tell me something that I don't know. It's not like I'm blind, unable to see my mainly metal body that glistens in the moonlight. It's not as if I can't hear the gasps of horrors that hiss out of the mortal soul. It's not like I'm unable to feel, knowing that I should be touching warm flesh, instead of foreign coldness.
I hate myself, loathe every cell-and metallic alloy-that forms my wretched body. Despite the fact that I never fully enjoyed being a miserable scum bucket of a human, I detest being part of a machine ever more.
There are moments when I attempt to cry myself to sleep at night, but tears won't form in my glassy eyes. Screaming from the rooftops always proves to be tempting, but I don't think that I could give Manticore the satisfaction that I, X5-599-Zack-, had broken, twisted by his own insanity. They're out there, after all, searching for their precious, living "organ donor".
All I really wanted, I suppose, was to see Max again. Perhaps she really was with Logan, yet I suppose that virus has been giving them some difficulty. I'm not sure, though, whether to be happy that they aren't together or lament the fact, because, after I'm gone, Max will need someone to care for her. Reason for this being, of course, that I'm not going to be around forever. I refuse to be around much longer in this damned state that I am mortally trapped in. And from there? After my death? I don't know, really, I, the one who usually knows everything, doesn't.
Besides, it's not like I'm still human, so why does it matter?