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I have always been half human and half scrambling, screeching bat, radar fried and dangling precariously over madness in the light of people's day. Once their fingers surprised me like pokers, their gold chains burned at my skin, and their incessant noise ravaged my diminished rationality like Ratatoskr. I hoped to high heaven I instilled that same discomfort in them. The alternative seemed relieving and reproachable at turns.
Nonetheless, I dared not succumb to the delusion that I could live, let alone thrive, independently. When I awoke to a silent world, beyond bustle and buzzing and bruising, I was reconciled to my solitary state ending in sickened suffering, resigned to bequeathing the reins of my survival to some stranger. Still, I froze less warily with each passing day of the inhibited world I now inhabited - no living beings save me. Not a single branch broke, not a single flower bloomed, not a single sapling grew but by my hand. Even before I planted the produce putrefying on the store shelves, the fruiting foliage in the vast city's villas were more than enough for my inactive existence. A pittance passed as I sculpted my world of steel, stone and sustenance until I fancied myself irrepressible and irreplaceable.
Eventually he arrived. His speech was clear as glass, lucid in expression like the beaming sun, and his presence burned me just the same. He displayed that he could hear me before refusing to listen ever again. He crowned himself king while unwilling to understand the careful calculus behind his domain. He saw the world working as I intended and chose to chance that my interference was irrelevant. Invisible insects, furtive fairies, gracious gods - his imagination ran wild as to his "bona fide" benefactors. He claimed his actions destabilized nothing as I restored what he destroyed, until I lay demoralized and the world fell to ruin. The fruits failed to form, the buildings broke down, and even the weeds withered.
One day, he finally fell at my feet in forgiveness, but I was through with overbearing followed by accommodations, overreaching followed by apologies. He shook up my world ceaselessly, and I shook up his simply by claiming the creatures he cherished had spoken to my subconscious as I slumbered, and only a sacrifice would satiate them. There was no boisterous battle, just an agonizing slog of attrition towards starvation. My meticulous, vegetable nature led to my victory, while he was a mere victim to the undignified passing I once predicted for myself. His cadaver refuses to rot, but the world around him has been healed by my hand.
The skeletal state of his crestfallen corpse could be an indictment of my inhumanity or a triumph over my trepidation. Yet the lessons he bestowed shall haunt me even if time wears me down as well. His arrival may ascertain more unwanted wanderers, but I can sustain my walled garden regardless of the pests that may force their way in. Alas, I now know I am reliant on their raids, lest I perish from my paradise by my own hands. A sickening sabiosa has begun blossoming in my bosom once again - a merciless, mysterious desire for companionship which had nearly consumed my psyche whole before his arrival uprooted it.