There was a time when all I wanted was to be a computer.
Sleek, sturdy, practical and magnetic – it has the healthy build of importance locked in at the right angle. I wanted to be as flexible as a portable screen. Flashing bright smiles at everyone, I would be radiant. When someone asked ‘where do you want to go today’ I would say ‘anywhere’ and mean it.
I wanted to be a computer so that I could be stared at. All day with hazy eyes, so hooked that they can’t turn away. There’s an addictive quality to something so shiny. It glistens with the intimate knowledge of every thought etched onto its life line. Calm to the touch, it’s always collected.
I wanted to be a computer so I could interact with people, but then I realized that I don’t have to. Just because I’m a mouse, doesn’t mean I’m invisible.