10,000 Strokes (pt.1 of 4)

Sometimes, when I let my guard down, it seems so very much like he would be the one, that I would surely cry if I could.  Fortunately, I do not often let my guard down, but on those rare occasions, I am grateful for the moments when my memory fades.1

Usually, I try to resist the nature of my physical form, but then the headache begins, and eventually I release to escape the pain.  However, when my guard is down, and I am wrought with emotion, I freely allow the creature to envelope my true self.  With that state being very much like a sleep, I always "wake up" feeling refreshed.2

Upon that special awakening, I slowly regain my memories, or at least most of them, and then I can continue in my ancient objective.  Actually, most of the time, there is very little I can do in my form, especially when he is awake at work or shopping.  To my great fortune, that is typically all that keeps him from me.3

The interesting thing that I have noticed is that it has become that more often than not, the times I am receiving his affections, I'm not even thinking about how they might ultimately benefit me.  One day, while he was at work, and I was in my own mind, I found myself wanting him home simply for who he was.4

That realization was the very first time I had ever began to have truly sincere feelings for one of those whom I had always otherwise thought of as merely candidates.  My emotions were then compounded by the prospect that perhaps it was that very thing that made all the previous candidates failures.5

With any luck, since this is something that I have thought about many times, I am less likely to lose control, because losing that emotional control only encouraged the creature to envelope me.  While the escape was a blessing, it also left me with less time.6

I had quickly learned over the centuries to apply good timing to changes.  A lesser intensity of thought or emotion allows for more time as my true self, therefore I must keep measure of my thoughts, in order to help ensure that I am myself as much as I can, while he is home.7

In the past, it had always helped also in order to simply keep myself alive.  I possess no knowledge of, nor control over, the creature's actions, and the dangers outside have always been varied and plentiful.  It is always a blessing when I am able to stay indoors so that I can more easily arrange my awakenings, in as much as they can be arranged.8

When I need to encourage a quicker change, I often either learn new things, when the opportunity arises, or I do as I am now, and simply ponder my existence, in hopes of obtaining an even greater understanding of what I am.9

I was brought into the United States shortly before the invention of the television: a most wonderful invention.  Through the years, and especially now, it helped me greatly in learning new things.  Earlier on, my learning was limited by the fact that a television was not on very much.  As years passed, people would watch their television more often, but I was still limited by my changes, and by the times there was no one present to turn the television on.10

I have grown to greatly appreciate this digital age where a television can be easily turned on and off by the pressing of a button.  In his house, I can turn on the television myself, even while he is away, and changing the channels is an equally simple task.  It is in this house that I have, as good as, mastered the English language.  Well, that is to say that I can easily understand it, though I am confidant that I could clearly speak it, should I ever regain the ability to speak.11

Less productive, though, is my use of his computer and the Internet.  On occasion, he leaves it on while he is at work, and sometimes I try to use it, but it takes a far greater degree of thought and effort for me, as its use is far more complex than pushing a single button.  I can accomplish very little before the headache begins, and then I have to go through the trouble of returning the computer to the state in which he had left it.12

Although, it was rather amusing, the one time I ran out of time, and he eventually came home to find a page open.  I had awakened moments before he returned, but I had forgotten what I had done. He discovered the page, and was quite dumbfounded.  After a while, he came to the casual conclusion that I had somehow done it.  "Aren't you the clever one," he had said; on more than a few occasions, actually, though for different reasons.13

I seems that it is indeed he who is the clever one.  Though he did not take himself too seriously in that instance, it had been only one of various occasions where his seemingly lofty conclusions had actually been truths surrounding me.  It is just more fuel to the fire of suspicion that he is the one I had been seeking for so many centuries.14

It seems so much like he is aware that I am something more.  It is almost as if he can sense my humanity hidden within this form.  Many different people have treated me many different ways, but it is with him that I feel the most human.  There was even one time, for the all too briefest of moments, that I actually forgot that I was not human.15

It was at night, and he had just lain down to sleep.  I moved carefully across his mattress and came to rest beside him.  It had been day when I had kept my thoughts subtle, so that I might maintain myself longer with him.16

We had been watching television while he caressed me gently for hours, never seeming to tire, except for having to stop for a few seconds to flex or shake his hand.  Even though it had become something of a burden on him, he continued simply because he knew it enjoyed it.17

That had moved me so much that I wanted to remain in his presence, even if I would not be feeling his fingers on me.  I laid my head near his and watched him in the dark.  He was sleeping on his stomach, as he often does, and when his steady, shallow breathing was broken by a single deeper breath, is eyes opened slightly, for only an instant, he voiced some short, quiet, half-conscious noise, then moved his hand a few inches towards me until the side of his smallest finger was pressing against me.18

That finger moved slightly up then down one time, and though I cannot be entirely certain whether it was a mindless twitch or something intentional, I did feel in my heart that some part of him knew exactly what he was doing.  In that moment, I had forgotten everything that I was, but only in the best way.  In that moment, I was a woman lying in bed next to a man whom I cared about more deeply than I had anyone else.19

I had quickly fallen asleep, and for the first time in so very many years, I had a dream that I could actually remember upon my own special awakening.  I was back in Japan, in an open, lush meadow, with only a few small flowers, just outside my home village of Kuchikawa.  The river ran out of a thick forest and passed by some steps away.  The forest was dark, and I felt a sense of foreboding, but I was not worried.  For some odd reason, there was a mountain towering behind the forest, whereas, in real life, there was no mountain in the area.20

I looked to my side, and there I saw my father walking away from me, towards the forest.  The grass seemed to grow thicker in front of him, as if to prevent him from moving forward, yet he paid it no mind, and just stomped on through.21

As my father grew closer to the edge of the woods, I saw another man coming out of them.  That man, whose identity I still do not recall, stopped and then looked back into the forest.  He waved his hand, as if to beckon someone out, but he was confused, because though he wanted to speak, he did not know what to say.22

I wanted to help him, but I could not speak or walk.  I raised my hands over my head and waved them wildly, and though he did look over his shoulder to me for a second, he did not pay me any mind.  I tried to walk, but only tripped and fell to my hands and knees.  With great effort, I was able to crawl, but it was very difficult and tiring.23

I pounded the ground with my hand, in one last attempt to get the man's attention.  I pounded harder, until my hand hurt, but my efforts were in vain.  I grew very weary, and was forced to lie down in the grass.  I lay there, completely unable to move on my own.  I heard and felt my heart pounding and my breathing heavy from exhaustion, and then I sank into a deep sleep.24

Despite everything that had happened within the dream, I did not get a bad feeling from it.25

My head is beginning to hurt.  It is not noon yet.  I guess I allowed my thinking to become more intense than I had planned.  I'll just rest a while.26