I sat there and wondered what that feeling was that bubbled itself deep from my gut and morphed into a great ball of disgust and fear. I looked to my left to see myself. Sitting there, in a plush chair I don't deserve, insect legs, waving back and saying, "Hola, I am the Sun God." I look to my left to see Thompson, shrugging, just like me. I look to my left to see a great big Kit Kat bar with a fantastic mustache. "That's epic lip hair, cat." And he says, "You look like my cousing Leonard." I look to my left to see my right.
See, I once met this man on my way to Cardiff. His eyes were closed. I pleaded with him to open his eyes and see the beauty that surrounded him. He tells me that his life walked out the door with the cable guy. "She," he said, "was beautiful." I could tell that he didn't want to ruin that. One last perfect image. Somewhere in his throat was a bubble just like mine. I reached down and pulled a soiled flower from the wet sod beneath my feet. I gripped it in my hand as tightly as I could. My hand began to disappear. It was hard to hold on. I reached up with my other hand and pried open his heavy lids. I wanted to show him. "Look at this. Remember her in these." But as they unsealed themselves... they became ears. And I realized that I'd ruined it. The way he didn't want it ruined. But back there in my chair my bubble turned to sorrow.
Pure. Unadulterated. "Change is always there." A voice from behind me. Behind me is my past.
(Here I have omitted some things. This was writing regarding concrete issues. At the time, I worked at a wonderful school teaching amazing things to awesome kids. Unfortunately, the school was run by a complete megalomaniac. Most of this post was in regards to that. It was a painful time. So much potential but so little faith from those that could really make it happen. )
I miss simplicity in all things. An orange peel smells like orange. I wish it was always like that.
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