Artificial

  The remains of a once-proud civilization, advanced to technological feats once thought impossible. The ground is metallic, my boots creating a solid thud with each step. What could cause the downfall of such a great people? The reasons have been lost with time, but one thing hasn't: life.
  Life, in a sense. This planet, completely mechanized by my ancient ancestors, has few organic species left on its surface, clustered in the remnants of what used to be contained farms. The bionic life that hangs on is a much more common sight, as are the rumored monsters of experiments performed long ago. Neither of these are a welcome presence to me. Despite my horrid odds, I have to pray that I find one of the rarer, livestock animals that have somehow survived to this day. Starvation, after all, is a slow, painful way to die.
  No longer have the words run through my head than I hear a primal shriek, one of pain, lust, and hunger. "Shit." I think to myself, speeding on to a full-sprint as I hear the clank of metallic footfalls behind me. I don't dare look back, fearing that I could slip on the steel ground below, or trip over one of the many cables protruding from the metal. I instead focus on the path ahead, desperately searching for an escape. The clanks fall heavier, louder, my breath growing raspy, my legs burning. I can't stop. I won't stop. I have to find...
  Suddenly I'm going down, into a small crevice below. I hear a crack as my left arm takes the impact, pain tearing through. I look up as tears well in my eyes, and watch a titanium jaw unhinge, a robotic roar sounding through, echoing, ringing in my ears. Metal teeth chomp, feet stomp, and in a moment, its eyes lock on me. It stands, waiting. It knows it can outlast me.
  Slowly, I reach towards my holster, ready to draw my pistol. I feel only my thigh.

Goodbye

  Don't take this the wrong way. I loved you, and have appreciated every effort you've put in to make me happy. The problem is with me. The problem has always been with me. One failure after another, I've disappointed you, though you've never chosen to show it. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. I'm sorry for wasting your time. I'm sorry for disappointing you, again. At least, it will be the last time...
  Carefully, I fold the paper into my pocket, take one last swig from my beer, and walk into the cold streets. After a 20-minute drive, I'm at the bridge. I set the note on the railing, tape it down, and close my eyes...
  "Finally, I'm going to do something good with myself."