Red Numbers

Running is not hard. Talking isn't difficult. Swimming, dancing, jumping, falling. All these things the humans get excited over. I have no idea why, anyone can do these things. You start as a baby and if your lucky you can grow old and die, happily. However, happily, a word that's not apart of my vocabulary.  

Am I human? I could very well be. After all 99.9% of me is. Anyone could look at me face and say, human girl. But those who look at me can't see what I can, don't know the secrets I know, can't do what I can do.  

Because that .1% makes up a whole lot. Without it this wouldn't even be my story, I'd be telling some sappy love story like the rest of those teenage girls. Well this isn't. And I'm not. 

The numbers, that's my being. There everywhere. Just you simple mortals don't know where to look. Why can I see? I don't know. A screw up with the gene. A flip with the sperm? I don't know, and I can't waste time dwelling on why.  

The numbers. I can see them. They float, just above your head, on top of your hair, red, and digital like an alarm clock. The numbers tell me your death, they tell me your birth, they tell me so much more as well. The numbers are very difficult to explain, so please bare with me here. Sometimes I can tell very little about the numbers, sometimes it says the whole damn story. Some are common some are rare. You can have the same number as someone else, your stories are the same, but tweaked, played backwards and clipped and cut. If that makes any sence.... Let me give you an example 

17. A good number to begin with. And no for all you "math nerds" we won't start with 1. So 17 very common, very simple. 17 means you usually are the nice person, but feel disclosed a lot. Have no set best friend. Your filled with fake smiles, grows up to be a secretary or a bag boy. 17's are there too fill in the blank for the rest of us. So there's no gap in the world of the humans. Someones gotta be the 17. Yes no one intends to be 17 but someone has to be. Always. That's your life, just a spec in the pattern of the probability of the universe.  

My number? 3. 3 is my number, my number is rare, very rare. No one has my number, and I can say that for a fact. 3 is a flop, a screw up. Not saposed to be there. Not meant to be being. A total fluke in the pattern. The circle on a blanket of squares, I can frase it 1,000 ways but you get the picture. I'm not saposed to be here. 

4, another rare number. 4 is complex and deep, it hurts my mind just to think of 4. 4's are alone. Green eyes, always. 4's think differently then most humans do. Like the saying, outside the box, but 4's go deeper. Way deep. I have never met a 4.  

So you see the numbers are complex and it would take way to long to explain the millions of trillions of simple probabilities that could ever be. Dont you wish you could be like me? Ha I laugh in your stupidity. You don't want to be like me, you couldn't stand the pain. Your human head would spin and get migraines. That's cute you think you could stand it. Let me tell you, I have never gotten a headache. Never broken a bone. Never even sneezed. 

Doctors. I have no idea why they create all those potions of poison killing cells, that they inject you with. Things to stop the spread of the common cold, machines to suck up the extra fat, leaving you artificial. I don't know why. I have never been sick in my whole entire being. Then again I am a fluke. A viral if you will. This is all for the longer lasting life for the "greatest species" on earth, human. Trying all sorts of experiments to make them immortal. Never die? Sign me up. But there's just one, fluke in your plan. 

Impossible. Not meant to be. You'll die trying. Yes it's nice to dream of such things, but sorry my dear. Such things do not exist, such things can't be controlled.  

Like the fire burning inside me. How I yern to get rid of this .1%. To even be a 17 would be better. I am a living hell. A firework ready to explode. Yes it's nice to dream of such things, but sorry my dear. Such things do not exist.