I am a natural killer. A natural born killer. My name is irrelevant, my size is sometimes a joke, but my force is undeniable. For I do not osculate, I kill – whenever I put my mind at it. While she …(sigh), she is a sweetheart. To define her scientifically in percentages and body masses would read like 55% love, 22.5% passion and 22.5% reason, which sometimes she forgets to implement, just like she forgets the daily water intake of two and a half litters for the safety of the gut and brain. By the way, did you know that 85% of our brain is made out of water? Nothing to do with my story; its just a pointer to show you how smart I am. For if I kill, I need to be extraordinary skilled, shrewd and savvy. Otherwise I would be lost in the pandemonium of my world where you are sure to perish in pernicious or inane mistakes; or worse, because of lack of faith.
She, the girl accompanying my story, summoned me because of faith and her innate beliefs. Disheartened, discouraged and dismayed, she found out about me one day and shes been relying on me ever since with tenderness, with tears, with patience and with so much affection that one could almost call it clinginess, in this millennial vibe, where everybody is fine with whatever values or lack thereof defined. She wants me to appease her worries. She wants me to reciprocate feelings. And she wants me to be beside her in life struggles, joys and further eons of this unpredictable destiny. She trusts me with her life for it. She brings me colours to sinew my vigour, pumps up my volition and strengthens my beliefs. She even eats rainbows for lunch, breakfast and dinner as if the worlds well-being depends on apigenins, lycopines, sulphoraphanes, allicins, or hesperidins – terms which she learned only to impress the needs of my insatiable urges. For I am a master of such parlance and academic speeches. She must love me. To think that she follows the trail of my vices with an adaptogenic characteristic and proliferative curiosity that sometimes I am amazed by her perdurance and persistence. Shes always there for me.
I am part of her 90% serotonin, lying in the places of her body I love to visit. For she is appealing to my senses and sometimes I wish she knew she is amazing. She does not know it, but she dreams, incepts and implements, making me her most precious reality. Me, who cares more about phytoncides, ions and abstract theories, rather than the simplicity of settling down and watching her favourite movie. Its that movie on redemption and hope, the one I also love, but sometimes I pretend to forget, before she makes me forget that I pretend. I know all of her faith quotes, as much as she knows my Sisyphus philosophies and difficult attempts to restore harmony.
And so, I move around, leave, come back, get busy and sometimes lose myself in myriads of useless gatherings where my purpose is forgotten for the instant pleasure of foreign bodies and organisms.
They laugh and think that I am the pleaser of the season. Yet they all seem to forget that I am a natural killer. A natural born killer, creating apoptosis around me. She alone knows the greatness of my inner force. She is a sweetheart. And I…can make this sweetheart happy.
(c) Soar, 2019. soaring-words.com. Picture credits: pixabay.com. #soar, #soaringwords, #storypoems, #shortstories, #humanvalues, #life, #hope, #love.