Wallflowers spend most of their time inside their heads. A vast space in their minds is taken up by deep, unstructured thoughts. These thoughts flourish in the compartments they don’t share with others. These thoughts could build empires and slaughter norms. These thoughts have turned them into wallflowers, because they are not the same thoughts you find in every being. Not even close. These thoughts will never become real enough to satisfy this select group of humans, either. Wallflowers weren’t meant to share what they feel, and when they finally manage to put these thoughts into words, it comes out alarmingly wrong, and nobody understands the importance these thoughts hold within them. Words ruin things. Nobody can grasp the meaning behind their thoughts, and nobody can relate to them in any other way than the way society has taught them to. And this way isn’t enough. It never has been. It never will be. So hidden they remain.
They keep to themselves, you know. They will most likely share some of themselves, but not their most valuable selves. They hide themselves somewhere around their hearts, and when they interact it is in forms taken over by the world. Artificial actions by impressionable bodies. Their actions are censored, most of the time, because for the life of them they cannot figure out how to act. Penitence accompanies them after social interactions. Wallflowers think of things, they see things, they blamelessly understand them when others can’t, and they stay quiet. They see more than they are credited for, they see the realness behind the facade built by dull people, and when they tear it down, they do not make it known to anyone but themselves. Wallflowers are shy, they’re introverted, and sometimes they don’t know if it’s by choice. They do not disappoint, they do not contradict the version of themselves that exists in your head. You see them as shy outsiders, because that is exactly what they are. They live a simple existence in the physical world, but not in the abstract world concocted and thriving in their brains. They love living on the outside, because it is the closest to the edge.
Wallflowers are one of the most mysterious inputs of the universe. They do not owe anyone anything. They are the most bare, and the most real species on the planet. Maybe you pass them in the hallways, and maybe you think about saying hi to them, because you cannot remember if anyone ever has. They see you, too, but they do not think about saying hi to you, they don’t owe you that. It is out of place. They feel your eyes linger in curiosity on theirs for an ephemeral moment, and then, they look away. They feel ashamed, because they could’ve said something to you, even though they knew they never would. They never have. They think about the moment longer than you do, and they feel it in a peculiar way that makes them more vulnerable than they already are. Wallflowers have roots that bury them into themselves. These roots are laced with promises of protection and hope. The roots keep them grounded, because wallflowers tend to believe in things that were never meant to carry belief.
Sometimes these people feel heavy, and in little moments between life they even feel worthless, and this often comes with no warning or reason. But other times, when they let themselves untangle from their roots, they turn into the epitome of life, in a beautifully unbecoming way. They do not care anymore about the looks from others, or the gestures they uncovered or the things they saw and understood. They just live. They just are. And it is in these moments wallflowers are separated from weeds.