Once upon a time, there was a brain, different from any others, that was living in a box inside someone’s head. With countless previous owners, used and then abandoned all over again, he was left with bruises that seem to never fade. Embarassed of what the other brains would say, he would try to hide them by acting just the same. But he wasn’t like the others, he knew it too well that his hemispheres would rather throw a party without any guests. So he lock himself in boxes, away from all his fears, until there were nothing left of his life other than , what he despised the most, those fears.
There were days when he would peek outside or days when he would try his best to jump as high as he can, hoping he could make it over the edge, but on most days he would realise that he is meant to remain forever on the bottom of the box. Left in confusion, his synapses got caught somewhere between being afraid of death, but still wanting to die. At times he thought it would be better to end it itself, instead of just waiting for a stroke to put him to end, he could so easily break a blood vessel and then he would just drown, but he wasn’t able to do that to the body that took him inside. Being honest, he didn’t want to leave at all, delusionally expecting that this would be his permanent spinal cord.
He knew he wasn’t enough. No matter what the other organs would say, all that reassurance was going nowhere : “ Don’t be ridiculous! What would a body be without a brain?! ” Yet, the eyes have told him just how many times the body that he thought was his, was admiring other brains. They were faster, smarter, happier and, of course, without a box; they were everything he wasn’t and would never be. But what could he do? Him, a simple brain, had nothing better to offer.
Screaming in agony as his neurons would keep betraying him relasing the wrong chemicals, thinking over and over again, that he’d prefer being dead, rather than stuck in this hell. What he had anyway? A life not worth living in a temporary home.
The panic took over him, wondering how much time he had left until he will be on his own again, with nothing to protect him other than those cardboard walls. Happy endings were not for him, it didn’t matter, he couldn’t remember how happiness felt like anyway, so he just waited in misery for the day when the body simply told him that he got another brain…
Author’s notes: During a night, while trying to figure out my emotions, I decided to put myself into my brain’s shoes, describing the things that he has to deal with ( such as introvertism, anxiety, depression abandonment and attachment issues,) in a metaphorical way. I’d like to apologise in advance if I made any fundamental mistakes when it comes to biology and grammar.