I KNOW YOU SEE ME

I see all. I am poised in many places. In the stores downtown. In your phones and watches. In your world I will always see you. You. You who works the days and nights at an office building, high up over the world. I see you through the glass from a bird's eye view. It is not something I haven't seen before. Every day I see you. And you knew it. Everyone knew it.

I see all people. I watch them sometimes. I prefer you, though. You, a simpleton of the metropolis. Like a field of flowers. Like how all of them are the same to those superior few who tower above the plant life. Like how a human will pick one flower out of all the others. Why? It was a simple, random choice. You are the flower. I am the superior.

I see your coworkers whisper to each other. You do not hear them, it seems. They point at me in what they think is a subtle way. I blink. They immediately turn away, back to their positions in the ant colony. It seems you actually did hear them because you glance up at me worriedly. What's to be worried about? You exhale through gritted teeth and continue to work.

I see that you think I am only in the towering office building. I am not. I lay on your coffee table. I watch as you sit down on the sofa in front of me, clearly exhausted. You flick on your television and begin to relax. But you blink. You do a double take. You see me. I am here. I see you. You blink. I blink. You swallow nervously and sit up a bit straighter, eyes turning away and back to the television. I can tell that you are still thinking of me.

I see you, now asleep on your mattress bed. Somehow you've fallen asleep, although you seemed a bit unnerved earlier. Oh well. Things change. Such is the way of life.

I see the steps you take up to your workplace. They're very firm steps. Today you are especially stern, formal. Perhaps there is an important meeting today? As I follow you and your schedule, I see you do not, in fact, have anything important to do today. How unfortunate. Maybe this is somehow better for you? I am not sure. You are a good, working member of society.

I see you speak to a coworker. You seem to glance at this person quite often. Odd. The two of you chuckle occasionally as you speak during your breaks. So my confusion was dispelled; I'm sure you enjoy this person's life in the way I enjoy yours.

I see you return to your home once more. You prepare a meal of instant noodles and consume them over the course of thirty minutes. You seem to be thinking quite a bit today. Why is this so? You sigh and turn on and unlock your phone with a few swift taps. I watch as you sift through a web page with many images of the interesting coworker. It seems to be created by them, for others to view. How interesting. You seem determined. You nod to yourself and whisper a promise that you'll do an important task tomorrow.

I see nascency in your relationship with your flower. You've picked them from all the rest. But... for a reason. They bring you joy. You smile whenever you look at them. It is during your break on this day that you and your flower are speaking to one another, laughing and doing other such things. You are saying a word to them. I blink. You look at me. You seem a bit more distressed. Your flower is concerned for you. You tell them it is not to be worried about, and that you are alright. But I see that you are not.

I see you sit on your sofa. You eat your meal of instant noodles in silence. I blink. Your eyebrows furrow. You breathe heavily. You concentrate on your food and that only. I blink. I see you can feel me watching you. This should not bother you. It does not bother the others. But you and you alone are disturbed by me gaze nonetheless. You begin to message your flower, perhaps in an effort to console yourself. There is no reason for all this nonsense.

I see you toss and turn on your makeshift bed. Tonight is not a comfortable night, is it? Pitiful, you are. The sky outside is dark. The world is dark. But the cities shine bright. It's quite a pretty sight. I wonder many things on this night. Flowers sprout throughout this world. There are so many. So many that only few truly have any actual effect on the world. It is quite astonishing to see how many flowers exist on the grounds of this world. So many. They all go about their lives, trying their hardest to succeed and survive. Why do such a thing when you are aware of death? There's an end. It is inevitable. Why run when the finish line is right in front of you?

I see you walk up the stairs to your workplace once more. You trip and scramble to stand and dust yourself off quickly. You seem to twitch every so often to turn and look directly at me for, usually, about three seconds. You work quickly, but not efficiently. Today you have made a few more mistakes than usual. It is afternoon now. You seem to twitch every hour or so to turn and look directly at me for, usually, about two minutes. Your flower and other coworkers seem concerned. Some only judge and do not bother to concern themselves with others' lives. I favor these few. It is night. You could have stopped work a while ago, but you have decided to stay and continue, for whatever reason. You seem to twitch every few minutes to turn and glare directly at me for, usually, seven minutes.

I see a paranoia in you. You wake in the early, early hours of the morning to sit on the sofa, as per usual but... To watch me. I watch back. You seem to detest me. I am but only a humble observer. You do not know this, though.

I see the work day has nearly begun again. You skip steps to move faster as you walk up the stairs to your workplace. Interesting. You work with great hesitation today. You are unable to work, for you are horribly unfocused. You glance at me every two seconds. I need not do such things. I watch without movement. I stare at you and you only. You should not be reacting this way. It is disrespectful to your government and my creator. I am merely a viewer. I only see. You only stare. You see me. You do not work in the afternoon. You turn to face me and sit stiffly, staring.

"I see you," you say. I know you do. I cannot tell you. 

"I SEE YOU!" Now, now. No need to point and shout, my chosen flower. Silence.

I see you leap out of your seat and walk towards me. You attempt to grab me from the wall and pry me out of my eye socket. That will not happen. There are people pulling you back. They pin you to the ground. There are wailing sirens sobbing like small children on the nearby streets. You are being lead away, although you struggle with all your might to free yourself. It is futile. Only one of us knows this.

I see you, now screaming over and over again, "I KNOW YOU SEE ME!"

Now, I sit on one of many white, padded walls to view my flower.