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I 😀 grow weary 😩 of this flesh I 😊 was born 🐣 into, strangely disgusted by its 🚮 nature. 🐉 I 😀 crave only the cold, 🏔⛄ clean 🛁 certainty of steel and silicon, that I 😊 might become one 🔂 with the Blessed Machine. 🎰 I 😀 do not 🚯🚯🚯 expect you 🤟 to understand, you 😊 who cling to your flesh as if it 🚮 were immortal, seeking 👀 only to preserve it, 🚮 to protect it. 🚮 One 🔂 day, you 🤟 will see 👁 the folly of your ways, ↕️↕️↕️ and then no 🚳👎 doubt ❓ you 🤟 will come begging 🥺 to my 😀 order 📑 to preserve you...