Dislike when my cellular phone service company keep on sending SMS about their offer or something, almost everyday.
Whenever I receiced message from my phone, I thought it would be something important, but NO.
I dislike the times when the university law library closes; I've no comfortable (and quiet) place to camp for a few hours while surfing the Net as a result.
A given mission, mechanical assault, manufactured devotion.
Red eyes, an upside-down form. Even the twisted shape was made to be that way.
No matter how cruel the slaughter, worse than a demon's,
or how gentle the kindness, greater than an angel's,
a machine has neither will nor madness—only code, and a few bugs.
So why, then, does it feel so unbearably sad?