The pinball ball (Two hundred words story)

The pinball ball (Two hundred words story)

Being a pinball isn’t easy.Living being beaten and enjoying it is masochism to the extreme, but still feels sorry for those who push the buttons and enjoy and sadden when their scores are not as expected.They are not made of metal and the blows they receive every day hurt them in more serious ways, because those impacts are not only physical but also affect their psyche.It is not easy to live in an anthropophagous society that asks without giving and enslaves those who conform it to patterns that, like cattle irons, mark the skin and the soul.She lives in that piece of furniture, she doesn’t have to pretend to be a thing, nor do what she can’t do, even if the players would like to, accustomed to being puppets of something atrocious that they call fashion.To live of what they will say, to inflate, like a balloon with helium, of vanity, to fight against oneself in the battle to be taken into account must be oppressive.To this should be added the rampant race for money that transforms it into a troglodyte love that destroys and poisons feelings.Being a pinball is not easy, but it does not envy men.

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