My name? I'm not sure if anyone's asked me that before. Maybe it's a good thing, because I don't have one. Nor do I have a home planet. All I know is that I awoke among nothing, with distant stars that seemed to avoid me, fleeing millions of light-years away from my very existence. Kind of like here on Earth, the others just seem to pass me by, too busy wrestling with their ties or cursing out other drivers, without giving me a glance or any other form of acknowledgement. To Earth, I'm just another crazy homeless man that got on the poorly paved streets of New York City because of dumb decisions I've made in my life. IF only they knew I am alone, and have met no others like me. If only they I'm just trying to find purpose in this universe, one of the only things I seem to have in common with the rest of the population. If only they knew - I am an alien.
The face you're seeing right now, with a graying unkempt beard, accompanied by two gray crossed-eyed eyes - one that tends to wander to the far left and the other rimmed with black that randomly strikes my pupil, almost swallowing the gray out of it - and a nose with a long yet flat bridge like the top of an anvil, is only one of many. My true face isn't anything special, and would only appear to be fine, zaffre blue glitter being scattered along the breeze as if a winter pixie accidently spilt its contents that would have brought frost to trees or shine to the snow. Even though I am unique (a mantra I recite to myself often to keep me going, but almost always fails to work), when people see who I really am, nothing more than a being comprised of gas, they don't stop or stare. They don't gape in awe like in the movies when the protagonist first lays eyes upon a UFO. They don't marvel at my extra-terrestrial being. When seen, I'm just thought of as dust, and it never crosses anyone minds where the dust would land. Would it glisten under the light coming through the window pane, being swirled by a nearby air conditioner as if it were on a ferris wheel, or drift into the rest of the fallen in the corner of an alley, only serving to warn others of possible spider webs? Nobody asks those questions, and I often wish the inhabitants of this planet would. Or any planet really.
Right now, I'm clothed in tattered jeans - ones that I stripped of another before I learned human customs. Look at that! Another mistake I've made in my life. - and a worn-out, chestnut red sweater, with the seams coming apart as we speak. Just like my face, my true form's body is only molecules that pull and compact - changing from solid, liquid, to gas. When I am certain that the world I am visiting is not where I'm meant to be, I transform into my original self, and let the universe guide me to the next point of my journey - later to compact myself into whatever is deemed acceptable at my next location. See? You really don't believe what I am saying is true, just like the others, and want to drag me into a mental asylum where I'd spend the rest of my days chained by the cushiony walls and spongy, cubed shaped handcuffs. Sometimes, when I hear a fellow homeless man speaking of being an alien, I wonder if he's just like me - if I'm not the only one haunted by loneliness eternally. But of course, nothing that good could happen to me, and the guy speaking of riding unicorns and fighting off dragons is probably the reason why mental asylums are existent. To further extenuate the length of my patheticness, I even sometimes wander the sewers of New York in my true form, in hopes that another creature, made of a light gas with an almost feathery texture and a dull glint, like that of particles lightly glistening with the touch of sunlight-the way I look as well -would be there to meet me, welcoming me with open arms (well, if the other had arms at the moment) and an explanation why I was left to fend for myself in an in an infinite universe without any help of any form. Why search in the sewers? Because that is where rejects go-waste, and it's like I almost fit in. Even with the comfort of knowing their is a place I could possibly belong, there is a bitterness I can't escape-that I only exist to live under the lives of others, wandering an unlit land with grime and filthy water-if you could still call it water-while I'd drift in my true form, a cloud of blue. Maybe I'd even transform into the muck itself, laying there dormant in the sewers I call home.
You think you're lame? Humans have some of the most unique powers of the universe! They can see music through writing strange symbols called notes and mimic the noises. They can turn unseen waves in the sky into images, broadcasted to those who swim in bags of money, and those who sleep in tents under trees and stars who believe they are camping. They can grow and cut things called hair, a material similar to fabric- some like silk, others like wool- and nails without pain, disposing of themselves as if their limbs were the equivalent of candy wrappers. All I can do is shape shift, one minute a french fry, the other a half pike, an hour later a giraffe. I have no need for vehicles, because I can fly freely in my gas form, and usually feel pulled towards fires. Honestly, I don't even know what I'm fully capable of; I didn't exactly come into a world with a system already established. For example, you humans have government, where you're ruled over a parent, to then be ruled over a teacher, to late be ruled over a president, while being ruled over a god. You know you go from baby to adult, unlike in some planets, such as Napa, where the inhabitants never age and just appear into existence. You even have a uniform set of laws that could be viewed in the click of a button! Just today I learned I could eat by engulfing the food I would consume in my true form. Earthling food is satisfying, but I've learned, while on Earth, that I prefer the taste of rust and metal. My favorite "power", one of the few things I love about being me, is that I am able to experience another person's life within a second. I'll feel all the emotions they once had, see all the sights they have seen, and hopefully, gain all the wisdom they learned from their experiences,
You know what's funny? Humans look to the stars for answers. They believe that that is where they'll find foreign life, but they don't care to check for it on their own planet, treating others like they aren't significant enough to hold that much value. I once met a man (at least what appeared to be a man) who told me, "In over 900 years of traveling time and space, I have yet to meet anyone who isn't important." He seemed to be in a hurry, and that was the first and last time I have heard from him. I think his name was doctor-just the doctor. I believe what he said is true, and that is why I still roam the universe; so I can find out why I am important. Even though I appear to be just an old man with nothing and everything I've said seems unbelievable, you took the time to listen to my words. If you've made it this far in my story, wanting to know the words of a pointless hobo not because it held any merit, but because you wanted to show you cared, I congratulate you. The average person wouldn't. My time here on Earth has come to an end, and I want you to take what I told you with you. I don't know where I will go next, but as long as there is at least one person (or creature) that wants to learn from the most unlikeliest of places, that shows compassion towards others, and takes a break from reality so that the unreal could one day become the real, I'll survive . You are the people that make me feel the belonging I have always yearned for. Thank you, and goodbye.
-Jessicarose L. L.