A Solid State of Being

Has it ever occurred to you that I

may not be completely human?

That my soul,

swirling and bright with heat stronger than the sun,

is alien?

Do not misunderstand me, no,

I am native

to this dimension.

I was born

and live

just as you do.

But no,

I am apart

from this world.

My friend,

I am ashamed to say

that I feel alone

when I say that I

am static.

You,

the world,

are changing with the times,

evolution in action.

I see Darwin's theories scrapped

and rewritten

with the beat of my heart as proof.

My heart,

which chooses to live alongside and merge

with my head.

Logic and emotion,

fused at the core and then some.

Always,

they have been this way,

because I am unchanging.

My friend,

if I were to tell you that

there was a nuclear device at my core,

tearing me out from the inside,

you, I hope, would be shocked.

But then, mon cher, 

I would explain that no harm

will come to me.

I will not die,

because change does not happen to me.

Pain happens, oh yes,

but pain of the body fades,

just as pain of the mind

recedes into dark-matter-numbness.

A constant companion,

but ignored and unfelt.

Because I am immobile,

mi querido,

you must move on;

the express lane

does not welcome

routine-relying

hermits

such as myself.

But that is fine,

truly,

because such a fast ride

would wear my flesh,

peeling it from the bones,

and revealing things about me

that I do not want you to see.

No,

the slow life;

that is for me.

Time is my friend,

the slow and steady ghost-of-a-girl

will always win in the end.

Because time is required

for me to exist.

Time is needed

to heal and compose the soul.

If I did not have time

to wind my clockwork mind

back to the worn, overused beginning,

to make sure that the beaten path

was not strayed from,

then the iron gears,

already rusting,

will jam once and for all.

I cannot function,

ma petite cher,

without the beaten trail.

And this is okay,

my beloved friend,

because I know of no other alternative.

Opportunity,

you see,

always forgets about my house,

with that quiet, unnoticeable door.

But please,

do not think that I despair.

I do not despair,

because to despair implies

that change was involved.

My hopeless, ignorant love,

you know, because I have implored you to,

that I am the one predictable being

in all of this universe.

And I'm sorry,

but because of that,

I cannot imagine a way

to be with you.

All because of a cursed and lonely beginning

that I had nothing to do with.

I do not change,

but this world does.

I am the casual observer,

a barren woman,

watching other people's children play

on a brightly colored playground.

But someday,

perhaps,

I will learn from my surroundings,

and learn the art of life,

and then,

my dear,

you can bet

that I will find you.

So would you mind

waiting for me?

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