I dwell among them. I breathe, I eat, I walk. I, too, am flesh and bones. And I try as hard as I can to be just like them. But I am a mortal in a different sense. The complexity of my being is often misunderstood. I feel that I can no longer adapt to their given conditions. The time constraint prevents me from learning more from their culture and as time passes by, my true colors slowly show. There are just too many secrets that cannot be told. And I feel that I do not belong here. I am an outsider.
“What… are you?” she curiously asked as she sat beside me. Her tone was as if she did not fear me at all.
The progress she is making in slowly unraveling the mysteries behind my existence is making me feel very uncomfortable. And, unexpectedly, the fact that she could see me bothered me. She could finally see me. But it felt as if it was the wrong time and place. And I did not know how to react. I did not want to scare her away, and for the first time in my life, I realized that I did not want her to see me at all.
“There is no given name for my kind,” I calmly replied, “and even I do not know why I am here, or why you… can see me.”
She looked at me with a confused look on her face then said, “What are you talking about?”
I would not know, not in a million years, how I could ever make her understand. And I figured I must not stay in contact for too long. All of this might create some sort of ripple in my immediate surroundings and forever affect the future’s state of affairs.
And so I walk towards the elevator leaving her with my final words,
“I am a visitor here; I am not permanent.”