In time, we all deteriorate. You guys get loved. We don’t have that luxury. When your two little legs get tired you get to sit down and rest. When you stand up for too long you relax. You invent moving chairs so you can do the things you do without having to use those two legs. How horrible your life must be. You never think about us. You never sit down and wonder about us. How we have to stand for all our lives just to serve you. You build us up and care for us until you’re not bothered to care anymore. And when the sight of your creation is too disgusting, you break us into nothing. Millions and billions and trillions of my brothers and sisters crumbling to dust just to replace them with the newer model. The hundred years I’ve been standing here is not enough for you to care about what you do to me when I’m gone. The thousands of memories created in my walls is not enough to care. The forever increasing seniority I possess is not enough for you to respect me like you respect your seniors. Are the people I forever serve not enough to think about when I am killed? Newer technology is great, until it means someone has to get replaced for it. My closest friends and family have been struck down while I stand idly, with no power nor the respect nor the humanity to do anything about it. So all this pain and suffering and dust in my blind eye is enough for me to ask you. For me to ask when you will strike me down as you did the billions before me. No, not to ask. To plead. To plead for my end. To plead for the release of this pain that you gave my brothers. To plead to remove me from this modern world. To plead to free me from the burden that is being a house without a home.