ORIGINS: Don’t ask us why, but the leopard in the series Animal Bites made us think of a mouse in hiding. We wondered where else it would hide, whose skin it would borrow. And the puzzle pieces are just a nod to the original series.
I never meant to become a leopard. I want to change, I want these spots gone from my skin, but there is nothing I can do. I was scared. I was a little mouse dwarfed by the world. Wouldn’t you have seen monsters too? Everything made me want to run, everybody made me want to hide. But Fear ran faster than me, and I was no match for her. These spots aren’t tooth marks. They are footprints. Fear never walked over my grave. She danced. All over my skin. Compacting my flesh as if it were soil, to make sure that I would never break out from my grave. She sealed my fate. And I became a leopard. A mouse buried in fear. That doesn’t know how to live any other way.
I disguised myself a while ago. And before you ask, no, a zebra wasn’t what I had in mind, but I am making the best of it. Fear lived in my feet, urging me to run like a little mouse. The only place my nightmares didn’t follow me to was sleep. But I couldn’t live with my eyes closed, and it isn’t like I ever found a crumb of solace there. My sleep belonged to silence and emptiness. It was nothing more than a brief pause, so that I could catch my breath. But I wanted, I needed more. That is why I tried to make a dream for myself. Something beautiful, something powerful, that could stomp its hoof on my fear and outrun all my nightmares. My disguise should have been a white horse. A beautiful victory. A comforting dream. And in a way it still is. I just have to make sure that the colors of my zebra keep evening out, and I don’t turn into my own worst nightmare.
I wanted to be beautiful, and those peacock tail feathers were just there, lying on the ground. What would you have done? They were calling my name, and a little bit of dirt wasn’t enough for me to say no and break my own heart. There was a time when I was scared of what others would think of me. I was an ugly little mouse back then, I looked, but I never found anything that I liked about myself. And maybe that is why I cared so much about what others thought. Because I had nothing that was worth baring my teeth and fighting for. But that has changed. For the first time in my life, I have found something that I don’t want to gnaw into oblivion. And I don’t care if others only see a worn-out, worthless thing. These feathers are my everything.
I always wanted to be a whale, and have a song that could be heard for miles. One that would drown out all my fears. So, I disguised myself as a whale, and I sang. On the bright side, I am not afraid of the dark anymore. I understand why most people do the things they do, and I don’t call them monsters anymore. The dark is full of familiar faces that have already hurt me, and hurt isn’t something I live in fear of, not anymore. I have accepted that hurt belongs in every relationship, in a way I never will. Because two is company and three is a crowd. And little mice like me can only accept which number they are, and run far, far away. And that’s the other side. The one fear I still have left. Like barnacles all over my skin. Loneliness. Because I sang. And I never got an answering song, that didn’t sound like two voices singing as one.