a boy who never was

it started out as all brain folk do, as a blip in the brain of an unsuspecting bird. this time he was grieving, stricken with a sudden fear of death. and so, the universe sent him a fluffy haired boy, one who could hold his anxieties and hide them within himself.

it was odd to start existing, to be guided by a blind cat and small child about the workings of the world i am bound to. the workings of this mind and of this body. and to be told of the most important rule: the bird can never know.

and so i kept up my work, containing the anxieties within myself as i was told, as i was meant to do. but it was never my life to live. if i were to start doing what i wanted, to start living, it would break our cover. break the illusion. 

but jealousy cannot be contained, cannot be hidden or shoved away without consequence. and so in the mirror, the bird began to see images of another self. a thin, scrawny boy, with fluffy black hair and gold circle glasses and a hoodie so tattered it looked like it had been attacked. and a name, not told or shown, but intrinsically connected to his very being.

jake.

and of course, the bird had no clue what to do with this information. was it a goal of transition? a new identity meant for him? or a boy who could never be?

the bird did not know, and i could not tell him. i could only look in the mirror and hope, silently and selfishly, that i could take the bird's place someday. 

that i could live. 

that i could be.