People tent to think rationalising any human behaviour reinforces the cultural force. Being too sad is an illness, too happy as well, too innovative or radical, vague and telling lies, an illness too. I doubt having a personality won't be an illness in a few decades.
But times change, and now my favourite days are the ones scheduled just to think about you. Petty coincidence it is that the same days drive me to the edge of my window.
Don't treat me like that. I can't be treated like that anymore, that's too human and I'm not a person anymore. I'm all the nightmares you ever saw. I'm nothing but dead meat striving to reach hell. Brake the chains that tie me here or wake me, feed me, wash me and put me to bed until I reach it. Can you do that?