I Thought About It For A Long Time. (421 hits)
Category: UberMadness! EntryRating: 2 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by NYC is like a Graveyard (View user info) at 2004-10-05 15:04:42 EDT
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Today was the first time in my whole life I've gone through a day without noticing anybody. I packed up my belongings and left my town, my former life, and headed south. To the tundra. I had taken a new job as an interpreter, to convey what nature was telling me. I had to think a while about taking this job, what if I told someone something they didn't want to hear?
Lightning strikes the tree next to me, and I write a small note in my journal. "Mother doesn't want me around." I can't leave, it's too beautiful. It seems like I'm chained to this spot on the Earth, out here all by myself. People may treat you like the tundra does, but nothing compares to the fury of nature. Most people won't kill you, but the forces that reign out here in the wastelands will kill you in an instant.
I can't leave.
It's tornado weather, lightning and wind prevail over everything else. There isn't a funnel cloud in sight, though. Is that tree bleeding?
I'm not responsible for anything that happens here, it's great. I live life with no consequences and get rewarded. I should work on my speaking eloquence, but nobody is around to critique me. I've always wanted to go to Denver, but the city would beat me. I ought to stay in the tundra where at least I have a chance. Until it treats me like desert.
I should have taken this job sooner. Why even think about your actions when you can always un-fuck yourself later? I'd like to think I live life with no regrets, but the one regret I have is thinking too much. I've thought about it for a long time. Over analyzing, critical thinking, all of it a waste. Wasting life. Wasting precious time. Starting over isn't what life is about.
The sun is setting, it's getting late in the year, and I'm trying to appreciate the moment. I keep telling myself that I'll look back on this with much fondness. Is this the high point in my life?
There's my funnel cloud. Now the broken limbs from the trees and shrubs start beating me. I don't mind because this is my job. I keep jotting down notes in my journal, I'm careful about what I write. The tree's blood tastes bitter and covers me in a thin film.
I laugh.
This has got to be the slowest day ever, but I'm not here seeking thrills. I came here to slow down until I stopped dead in my tracks. It seems humane when you think about it. At least I'm out here with the dirt, I have never been bothered to look at it before but there's so much beauty in it. Dirt, who would've thought? That's where we all go anyways, all the beautiful people and ugly people. Beauty fades, especially when you're in the dirt. It's like the dirt sucks it out of you.
I cry.
The funnel touches the ground close to me, so close I can feel myself being dragged against the dirt, my ball and chain broken free. I'm moving quicker now. My feet feel more like air than lead. The tree is stripped bare, revealing itself to me. I reach for my pen and journal but they're in the air, I can see the binding being ripped off of the spine of the book. Dissapointment fills my head. It's glorious, I see the tree light up from the inside. Suddenly the tree is uprooted, my one source of light gone. I'm lifted into the air, nothing is left to anchor me to the ground.
I pray.
I can't finish my prayer to release me from the funnel, I'm already inside. I get a panoramic view in no time. I'm spinning quickly. My eyes are worn out, my brain is overloaded with thoughts. I'm losing all touch. Nature is finally fed up with me, and it's time to return to the roots.
I've got it all figured out, but what does that mean?
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Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2005-01-16 12:10:09 EST (#)
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