Most girls out there are pretty similar: they like to wear leggings, eat at Sweetgreen, and make posts on social media. But I’m not like the other girls. I’m a lamp.

Unlike other women, I don’t go shopping, get my nails done, or upload pictures on the Instagram. Instead, I convert 60 watts of electrical power into visible light energy and infrared radiation so people can continue performing basic tasks without the assistance of the sun.  

I don’t listen to vapid, girly music, like Katy Perry or Taylor Swift. Nor do I care for the Chainsmokers or Carly Rae Jepson. I cannot hear. I am a lamp.

Moreover, I don’t have female friends—women are too catty and dramatic. I don’t relate to guys well either: unlike me, they are kind of dim. The only things that I am capable of connecting to are outlets. Without them I cannot draw the current necessary to fulfill my function of furnishing artificial light.

Although I am not like other women, I do have some things in common with them. For example, both of us are commonly viewed as objects incapable of complex thought. But in my case it’s true, because I am a lamp.