All the world is different to me than what you see. A shadow here, a bird there. I am aware of things that you cannot even dream of imagining that exist on the Earth. They are silent, noiseless and next to you in a single breath of a hummingbird. These creepers are not friendly, neither are they your enemies, but like me like for them, beware.
But I ramble. You were going to tell me how you were different, yes? You have been telling me that since you were a kid. I watched you grow, play and study, usually alone. I know that people are uncomfortable around you, they talk about you behind your back. They try, and try very hard to exclude you. I know that you have gone begging after them to include you, and they have refused to listen. I know that you have cried, alone, just because you saw pictures of them out and about, without a care in the world, and have wondered how hard would it have been for them to invite you? You have lay awake in bed, believing that the reason for this is that you’re boring, uninteresting and plain weird. You will never fit in, and you will never deserve to fit in.
Let me tell you something about me. Did you know that there was a species of tree that could walk and talk, like humans do?
They lived till very old ages, and they were not quick. They went about their tasks, slowly but surely. They helped the trees that were beginning to wilt as soon as they were born. They helped plants throw their seeds to the far flung corners of the world. They made sure that the immobile trees had a long and healthy life. They would use the bodies of the dead trees to nourish the the trees still standing. They protected us from humans. But not all trees loved them.
They were envious of the fact that the Walkers could roam around the world, and see sights the other tress could not have imagined. They could meet trees they never knew existed. They could bask in the rain of separate lands while the immobile ones had to endure repeats of the same minerals and nourishment every single year. The trees did not have kindness towards them, and if the Walkers were hurt, they were often left to die.
“You were a Walker?”
Yes. I am stationary now, but I had experiences that would not have been fulfilled in my wildest dreams if I was not so. But the hate I received from my fellow trees took a toll on me, so I left. I travelled the breadth of this world and the next, and saw many things, adorable to unspeakable. But when I returned, I saw that I had shirked my duty. I had refused to help others. And the hate I received was no excuse. So now both the stationary trees and the Walkers shunned me. Now I stand here alone, in front of your house waiting for death after a long age of loneliness.
I know humans have an affinity for death, and I have seen you harm yourself more than once. But I beg you to not. I know you’re different, but you will find your brethren one day. And they might hate you for taking so long, but at least you will know the joy of being lovable.