Paradox

This is a story I wrote shortly after I read Twilight. It is not at all meant to be a spin-off, or in any way based on Stephanie Meyers books, but was inspired by the concept of someone able to read minds. I'm very fond of this piece, and the main character is by far one of my favorites. I would ask something...who is it? I wrote this with no discernable traits, and while I have a vivid image of the character in my own mind, I'm curious to see what others may think of who stars in this piece.


Paradox
By Keziah Lee

It is no small thing to possess the ability to write one’s thought’s down on paper. Consequently, it is no small thing to possess the ability to read one’s thoughts after they have been placed on said paper. It is a skill that, to the best of our knowledge, only the human race possesses. Therefore, it must be something important—this being able to make markings and have another decipher their meaning. In fact, it must be so important that the entire human race must learn how to do this. But there is another skill, even more important, that very few human beings possess.

To be perfectly truthful, I have only met one other person in the course of my life, besides myself, who possessed this extraordinary gift, and he is long since passed away. But what is this gift? Ah, that is the eternal question. You see, I have yet to decide whether it is truly a gift or a curse. For unlike the ability to make sign on paper and then read what it says, my ‘gift’ is much less appreciated.

For who would appreciate a neighbor who can write their thoughts, not on paper, but on the surface of another’s mind? And likewise, who would appreciate a neighbor who can read the thoughts already written on said mind? That is my gift and my curse. That is my privilege and my burden. It is my doom and my destiny. It is my love and my hate. It is my life and my death.

Without this ability, I would have perished long ago, but with it, I am doomed to a half-life, a half-death. I cannot turn this power off. I cannot choose when to use it and when not to. I walk down the street and I see thoughts hovering above people’s heads. I can choose not to look at most, but some scream out like billboards. If I had the chance, I could put it to good use. I could tell if someone was plotting murder, and I could stop it, but to do so, I would need people to believe me. I would need the help of the police department, the government, and that is something I cannot get.

If I were to hand myself over to the government, I would not be used to stop murders. I would be shoved into the first top-secret laboratory they found and plugged into a room full of computers. That is my doom. I am cursed with a gift that could be used to help people, but to reveal it is to sign my own death warrant. To use it in secrecy, though, I must live in the shadows. If I slip up, if I accidently reveal myself, I must leave. I can never establish any permanency; I must always be prepared to leave the area at the drop of a hat.

But you see, it is a cyclical curse. For if I wish to use it to help people, I must keep it a secret. If I keep it a secret, I must live in secrecy. If I live in secrecy, I become suspected. If I become suspected, I must leave. And if I leave, I see more people whom I want to help.

That is the paradox of my life. Do I use it or ignore it? Am I good or evil? Do I stay hidden or reveal myself? Do I live…or do I die.