People are unkind. All of them. The best of them, the worst of them- every last one of them, given the slightest provocation, the merest leeway always end up being merciless and brutal. It’s that dratted, messed up, so-called human nature.

Yes, I tend to bang my head, shut doors on my fingers, trip on a flat surfaces, forget to maneuver around large obstacles, drop stuff on my foot, burn my fingers on hot surfaces, hit myself while pretending to wield swords, crash into walls and people and land squarely on my bum- but that doesn’t condone my self-proclaimed well-wishers’ behavior that includes laughing, doubled-up, and unsympathetic condemnation of my tribulations while calling me a poorly-talented joker!

The tears that sometimes well-up to my utter mortification- I wonder at their source- whether it’s the pain (I am quite used to brushing that off), or the hurt at being so uncared for. Where’s the pity, the sympathy and the kindness and the humane bedside manner when one needs it? And just because I may need it every other day, surely doesn’t mean I should be deprived of it, does it?!

It’s the bloody humans! They profess their undying, unconditional love but will laugh and laugh and laugh, clutching their stomachs, tears streaming, short of breath, laugh till it hurts- struggling to pause for breath, and as an afterthought, from years of conditioning, will try (and usually not succeed) to help you off the floor!

Now older relatives, especially parents are a little different. I assume they try but sadly, cannot dredge up a lot of sympathy right away. They simply shake their heads, after telling me what seems to them for the millionth time, to kindly watch where I am going, think before I act, and to once in a while walk the earth, with the head on the same planet and not lost in the stratosphere or above. I presume, they wonder that who does their daughter take after, it possibly couldn’t be them!

Me? I blame the average human being. I’m not a klutz. I am simply misunderstood. I am a higher being that tackles so many different, deep problems, trying to find resolutions serving a higher philosophy, pondering upon the existence of being, in concepts of multiverses, submerged in finding the very answers to life, that I don’t have time to traverse the dimensions of the mundane. Okay, I daydream, I zone out or simply don’t pay attention. But seriously, there are exciting incidents and conversations being played out in my head, at the speed of light. When did being overly imaginative become a bad thing, huh?

But who is going to explain this to others? Between their exasperated looks and uncontrolled laughter, it’s hard to reason with these people. Of course, I do get that inexplicable hankering to punch them when they do behave unkindly like this. But have I ever acted on that feeling?! No, never! And not because I am fearful that I’ll miss and hit the wall next to them. It’s because I believe in being the better human. So, I lift myself off the floor, with the grace befitting royalty, hold my head high and walk away like nothing happened. Only when I am safely locked away in the bathroom that I limp, grimacing in pain, and curse myself and the actual culprit, the floor/walls/doors.