The Wallflower

I stare blankly at the monitor in front of me; I know I have to type something, an email, but something else invaded my personal space. In my own world, I know my is a vast space of thoughts, an array of words unspoken, of feelings kept hidden, stowed away random ideas, unraised counter arguments and. . .you get the idea.

All these and more are just inside my head. All my own.

These musings are never the same; it differs everyday. But there are occassions wherein I get to pull up a thought I’ve had two weeks ago and comprehend it a little more today and come up with a conclusion about it tomorrow or next week or next month. But often than not, it’s lightning don’t strike the same place twice.

But I can tell you that there is a thought that is always a constant visitor, so constant that I had it bookmarked in my head. If this thought was a book, it would have already reached 1st spot in the New York Times Bestselling List under Crazy Juvenile category. The thing is. . .no such genre exist. Is there?

And that thought is the exact same thought that hit me millions of times before, but something that would always take me back from the start; would make me feel the way I first felt when this thought hit me.

I AM NOTHING BUT A WALLFLOWER.

But how rude of me. I started pouring these all out yet I haven’t introduced myself. Hi, my name is Mike. Just Mike. I am twenty one years old and I am no one. Absolutely no one. So absolute that no one even cared when I entered the premises, pressed the elevator button, stepped into the foyer of our floor, opened my locker and registered my stuff, tapped my index finger in the whatchamaycallit technology that says whether you are present or not, and then made my way to my station. Nothing. Nada. I am the invisible air personified.

But I do occupy space and has mass. So I don’t see why that is the case. Curious.

Everyday that is the routine and please don’t get me wrong. I am perfectly fine with the way my world was laid out. I am fine with the cold treatment I get whenever everyone’s gathered for a chitchat while I am glued to my station. I am fine with going to lunch all by myself. I am fine with talking to no one during work hours, save if it’s business related which I get little to none.

If there is something I learned about in the 21 years of my life, it’s the fact that being in such a state wherein you live inside your head is safer that being out there. I play on the safezones because I know I will never step on the way of someone else’s life. I’d rather have my piece of silence than open myself up to the world and be vulnerable to all the possible psychological and emotional atrocities society brings.

About three things I am positive; first, I am a wallflower and I don’t know for how long and I don’t know what good (or bad) it brings but I am secured and safe, which is second. And third, there is a part of me that wants to get out and shout to the world that for once, make me feel that I exist, that at the end of the day, I know I belong. And I don’t know how dominant that part can be.

But I feel safe. Because I know this thought will not bother me for a couple of days or weeks.

You might think I am crazy or I lack attention. But I just want you to know that people like me exist. And people like me needs people who will understand.

I’m Mike. Just Mike.

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