She liked the word “unique” rather than strange. From an early age, she determined she was not from here. By here, she meant earth, not the small town she grew up in. She lay on her back, looking up at the starscape to wonder which light in the dark night sky was her real home.
It’s not easy being a space alien, a stranger. She tried hard to learn the manners, customs, morals, perspectives, ideologies, and strategies. She was sure that she needed to fit in, to appear totally human before her mission was made clear. For practice she watched instructional television shows such as Mork and Mindy, 3rd Rock from the Sun, Alf, and My Favorite Martian. Obviously, aliens and humans found each other comical; there was always laughter from the actors or unseen people.
She found staying human difficult, not funny. She never grasped how the synapses of society fired; how humanity could be evil and good; selfish and altruistic; greedy and self-sacrificing. She was surrounded by these contradictions; how everyone had at least two “faces” they presented to the world. She had only one.
She stopped trying to fit in; to be a member of human society. She kept to the margins. Peeking in through the window, but never crossing the threshold of the door. If she were human, she would feel loss, loneliness, pain. But she didn’t. This was a more comfortable world for her as she lay and watched the night sky.
@ phylor 2014