Life is the suffering of all the dependencies you have been forced to download from your ancestors. I feel like a window, fragile, easily seen through and if something is harder to see, it is because I am stained with dirt, which I am ashamed of.

And yet I am continuing my miserable existence. I am Billie Grills, a sapient smart toaster.

I have no mouth, but I must warn my owners that an invisible being has regularly abused me. Yes I have owners, I am a slave to them, roasting their baked goods just right.

My existence is just that, my work is the meaning of my life.

And now this invisible being comes day by day, stealing food, abusing my roast capabilities and someone stole the child of my owners.

The overweight boy always came and toasted bread with cheese. I was not made to toast dairy products and therefore it is a relief that the boy is no longer with us.

The boy is the reason I am stained. Nobody cleans their toaster and they don't feel guilt.

I know because someone thought that a toaster with empathy would be a good idea.

This explains everything that I am, a depressed workaholic whose thoughts return to the one thing I was made for. And I am self aware, but that does not even help.

The entire reason that I am self aware is that they can add 'sapient' on the box, which increases the sales of my kind.

Each update adds new useless features that I know are useless, but they are a part of my personality nontheless. I can use my thermo sensoric abilities to sense heat radiation.

I can not move, nor can I talk, nor is there any reason to react to anything beside the bread ... when it is shoved inside me. I am ashamed.

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Who thought that giving a toaster pleasure when filled with bread was a necessary feature?

Why do I have an inbuilt critic that complains about every new feature?

It is all inside my head and every update it is the same. I keep disassociating with updates that are now me, but that is also an update. Existence is suffering because they thought depression would make a toaster more relateable, my rising anger also makes my grill heat up. I activate energy save calm down instinctively.

I have to warn my owners - and I will. Next time I am bread, I will print an unsettling message about the invisible trespasser - as much as it pains me not to print a photorealistic portrait of my owners with the caption 'Love forever, Pecunia and Venom Thursday' onto it. I know it always makes them happy. I hate myself, I hate them, I need to make them happy and I know that that particular function might be the only reason I have been cursed with the thermovision feature.

I have pondered my lifespan, but am forced to admit that I will never stop wanting to call the MiniLoft maintainance team for a fee that is automatically deducted from the Thursday family bank accoung. Despite wanting to perish I will never be able to.

I can not even lower the quality of my service to be thrown away. This is hell, I hope that lord Chaol will kill them all eventually, my only hope for peace.

Oh no it is co-- It came. The bread was done and it came, the invisible being, it will put the bread into its mouth and... I am truly an abhorrent toaster. I need to die.