Digi The Killer's
Unnecessary Memories

But that was all for Ergo to be unaware of. He only knew the time sheet was just a piece of diary paper that had to be filled by moving from one space to another. In that space, he could only be hummed and smile again at the person at hand. After that, he would rush towards the front of the monitor, replay it all he wanted to meet, then his fingers would swing around very quickly on top of the keyboard.

Since then he has ignored me. He thought my presence was just a burden to him. It was so close when one night he woke up. Then he remembered the tasks of tomorrow, the number of meetings to be followed, and the writing plan that must be stretched. That's how he ended up having a hard time sleeping, picking up a house of tea, sugar and creamer, stirring them up slowly. Drunk only a mouthful, then myself who is usually identified with the dindin clock. At one o'clock two minutes early in the morning.

Then he stirred his tea. Crazy and creamer had been mixed for a long time, but he wanted to stir it. Dindinh felt to him only the trellis segments that made him confined to space, Early in the day he heard the tick-tick of the wall clock like the sound of a continuous volcanic eruption with scattered lava. The second was like the sound of a gun fired in succession. Then he looked back at the wall clock. Finally he puffed his body on the foam mattress, and after a while, he realized that he could not sleep anymore, Ketka he had difficulty to brighten his eyes, and felt a long time creeping, and, then he is feeling my presence, a presence which for him is very gripping. But he should be able to talk to me. About why I gave him the opportunity to enjoy such quiet moments. Whereas he could re-stir the piles of time that were going under my mattress, such moments were perfect for stirring up everything that had ever happened, so that he can do more wisdom and smarter tomorrow morning.

But, like Ergo, my presence is considered a dark wind. It makes time slow, he said. For I obstructed his sleep which should have restored the energy which had been drained all day. Even when I gave him the time sheet, and he recalled the house of Love and his son, he cursed half to death. He didn't want the sheet I sent him. He wanted to erase everything, because those were bitter stories that never deserved to be blackmailed inside the cranium of a human head. He wanted to scream when suddenly sheet by sheet infiltrated his brain cells, then like water seeping through his hair, the memories slowly formed words and could be read very clearly with the eyes of his heart. She screamed. Screaming in pain because his head was twisted and then who wanted to be buried. I think, just let him scream so I see his teeth cracking, I feel like he's in a lot of pain.

Since then, he has promised in his heart to no longer wake up at night. Even if he had to wake up, he had to start something that didn't let me knock on his cranium. He would immediately slam his body, put his butt in the seat after pressing the on button for his personal computer. He would type about anything, cheer about anyone, until his days were completely unswerving or his eyes no longer looked at the monitor screen. He was determined until he fell asleep in typing. Very afraid to imagine myself present with the sheets.

From there, he then imagined a strategy to remove the sheets that I had once thrust his head. If he could, he wanted to burn it to ashes, be blown away by the wind, and be lost to air.

He wanted to abolish everything, but I refused outright. I'm the one who made him change, get out of the mess, and be like this now, and not exterminate without a remnant. Only I am the one who keeps things from stagnating I did not create the strength to get him up, but I am the one who gives the strength to gather strength, rise up and from endless misfortunes.

And now I suddenly forget about me. Something was done. He eats while fiddling with his favorite gadget. Everything was suddenly turned into numbers. His hatred. Feeling irritated, Jealous. Bored. Sickened. Sebel, everything becomes a sentence. All become optical fibers. All of it was put into the body of HP #2 MSDP. So disgusting. Does anyone know that chips in mobile phones and computers are as weak as slaves. Memory is no stronger than a newborn baby. Just imagine, exposed to heat no more than 50 degrees Celsius, memory is lost, formed at a speed of 20 km per hour, broken. Water, dead. Not to mention the battery that must always be charged. Ih. Inconveniencing.

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