the omnivert universe

Day 26 – Hide

#prosaicwhisperer

Do I have any clue what I wrote? No absolutely not.

I am convinced today that I am indeed a machine with rustic parts of metal and copper. Searching through numerous sites, almost falling in a sea of mistakes once and the other time almost getting hit by an airplane that accelerated with the speed of hell, I have finally found in which category I belong, to be able to be so hurtful like a sword slashing through skin, yet so healing like a ray of hazel sunshine filled with promises and hope to people at the same time.

My batteries are made of clouds of dust filled with an aromatic scent of sunflower hugs and rustic window sills. The batteries don't go beep when they are out, they simply explode into a scene that could very easily land me in purgatory.

When the batteries are charged, feeling like cashmere blankets around my skin of bruised folklore and mythical tales, my eyes go wide like the spookiest doll you have ever seen, and my brain jerks alive, as if I drank a fizzy drink of maturity and concern. The urge to interact with humans, whoever they might be, although they are almost always strangers, is insane.

I act like the best possible person and provide my shoulder as a sacrificial lamb for unknown tears of dark chocolates and late night snacks and concerns of a ballerina's song being a melancholic ballad. I dance in the middle of a party like no one's business and almost annoy people by the spam of likes and comments I leave behind as the culprits of a murder mystery.

When my batteries are full I act like an angel with wings of excitement invisible to the naked eye, who has descended directly from heaven, pouring compliments that I always mean as graffiti on calloused hands and tired minds, serving as a lawyer for disputes completely unrelated to me.

But then, they are batteries after all. When they are drained of all the cosmic energy of stardust and pixie dust, I turn into a zombie that scares everyone by walking around half dead. I hide inside my cocoon of threads I myself made, with my hot chocolate that is always stalked and the fluffy blanket that envelops me in its welcome embrace, as if it knows I need comfort from something even I don't know happened and cut my heart open leaving it behind to bleed until it stopped beating.

When my batteries run out, the four gigantic walls that are painted beige become the most interesting object in the world to stare at, the messages that got blue ticks within seconds before, now lie as a skeleton of missed opportunities and cancelled plans that has started to decay like a rotten corpse and is ready to come haunt me in my sleep.

I go silent for days to hide in my heaven and give my wings some rest, even weeks sometimes. I know I need no social because the face to face interactions just make me more awkward like a teenager who just hit puberty with every ing second. The times when my hair is pulled into a messy bun and I am sitting across my misty window welcoming the rain and reading my torn book of pressed flowers and spilled secrets, I realize the reason why I always connected with an online community more instead of actual real life friends.

Because it is easier to smile when I actually feel like laughing, instead of stapling bandaids of burnt smiles on my face, when I am forced to interact with people that feel like gunshot wounds when I am unarmed. It is easier to know I won't be judged for even the silliest things I do, because the people online can't judge me unless I see their face, and the strangers I meet in crowds of nameless parties, their opinion doesn't matter anyways.

So you see, the stranger reading this, my batteries don't run out for forever. When I feel the walls that were a friend to me before suddenly become a traitor with a wanton smirk and treacherous hands, when I feel they are asphyxiating me like wilting flowers instead of the raindrop oxygen they provided before, I know, the time to let it go and shine as a shooting star that demands the attention of its spectator is back again, because the heaven has effectively transformed into hell.

And thus, the conclusion is, my batteries are of a brand filled with insecurities and careful steps, that produces a batch specifically for me. I might be an omnivert but I in all honesty, love my duality. I hope you do yours too.