A letter for You (a work in progress - productive thoughts??
Jul 27, 2015 6:33:00 GMT -5
anonplanthopper likes this
Post by annak on Jul 27, 2015 6:33:00 GMT -5
I am the first to admit it. A self-confessed bottler since ’96. There has, and I’m starting to think that there always will, been a box that envelops my emotions. The Box started off huge. I’m talking planet sized proportions. A galaxy where the constellations still swirled – an ethereal place where gravity was an unheard of concept (papers! Papers!). But, as the lines on my skin began to furrow channels, and as an exponentially increasing amount of freckles, the result of many summers’ suns, blotted out my youth, The Box grew smaller.
It happened slowly and all at once, in a chaotic frenzy of confusion. On the first day there was no difference. I was. On the second day I walked around the city in circles, marvelling and musing, a wild animal still. It was late that night when the huntress became the hunted. On the third day I drowned. Emotions slipped like silver darting fish through my weakening grasp. A tidal wave of All hit me. But it tossed me in, and then it tossed me out. I began to breathe again, the water still pressing against the inside of my lungs. On the fourth day there was an eclipse. Day turned once more to night, and I could see nothing. I was alone. On the fifth day I thought that I could see land. Although I was, by now, some distance off shore, that golden snake beneath the rolling hills held hope. On the sixth day the sea rose up once more, but this time I did not rise with it. On the seventh day there was The Box.
I can’t recall which particular day that The Box first enraptured me, perhaps it was a Tuesday. I know that I almost liked it at first. It was different, a place that I hadn’t been before – new territory to conquer for an adventurous soul, if you will. The only trouble is that if you are in a place for long enough you start to know where you are. You begin to notice the subtle distortion, like when viewing a scene on a green screen, the falsities that surround you. It began to get on my nerves. It is still on my nerves. Pressing like a dead weight on my chest. How did I come to be here? Why did I, clip my wings after flying so high? How does a bird begin to swim?
I’m hoping that you are familiar with the theory of evolution. About how, over an extended period of time, species adapt to their immediate environment to ensure an optimum rate of survival. Who I am is the product of an evolution, of sorts. I slipped easily into these changes at first, as one might don an item of clothing in a fitting room. The critical eye is never the first that you behold something with. You just don’t have the facts yet. So I stood there, trying it on for size eagerly, excitedly. Ready for the transformation that would see an end result that was beautiful to behold. The paragon of love, affection, and sex. The quintessence of charm, satire, and intelligent thought. The girl of your dreams. Looking back I think that I may once have caught a glimpse of her, running ahead of me in the distance, through the haze of a dream that flickered dimly. I never caught up. I don’t think that I ever will. The thing about assuming an entity is that you can’t slip it on and off again easily like clothing. Sooner or later, after wearing it for long enough, it becomes a part of you. You evolve. The changes are subtle to begin with. Like the first chilled winds that arrive with autumn. More often than not, you don’t notice that the world is signalling for winter, turning faster on its axis towards it; because, more often than not, you’re too enamoured by the splendour of the changing leaves, too busy marvelling at their bright colour. The shortest day is the turning point. When the leaves have fallen and faded to a dusty, broken brown; when the wind is roaring, beating at the windows and demanding to be heard. When it is too late, and when there are too many, you begin to notice the changes.
Gone are the Instagram filtered memories of summers’ past. They are replaced with this new stark reality. One that I cannot shake. I think that, for me at least, realising my own evolution was the harshest truth I have ever encountered. I could no longer say that I was alone with myself when standing in front of a mirror – for when I did I was confronted by a stranger. This is when pandemonium occurred, when I tried to break free of my confinement in The Box by all the force I could gather.
It happened slowly and all at once, in a chaotic frenzy of confusion. On the first day there was no difference. I was. On the second day I walked around the city in circles, marvelling and musing, a wild animal still. It was late that night when the huntress became the hunted. On the third day I drowned. Emotions slipped like silver darting fish through my weakening grasp. A tidal wave of All hit me. But it tossed me in, and then it tossed me out. I began to breathe again, the water still pressing against the inside of my lungs. On the fourth day there was an eclipse. Day turned once more to night, and I could see nothing. I was alone. On the fifth day I thought that I could see land. Although I was, by now, some distance off shore, that golden snake beneath the rolling hills held hope. On the sixth day the sea rose up once more, but this time I did not rise with it. On the seventh day there was The Box.
I can’t recall which particular day that The Box first enraptured me, perhaps it was a Tuesday. I know that I almost liked it at first. It was different, a place that I hadn’t been before – new territory to conquer for an adventurous soul, if you will. The only trouble is that if you are in a place for long enough you start to know where you are. You begin to notice the subtle distortion, like when viewing a scene on a green screen, the falsities that surround you. It began to get on my nerves. It is still on my nerves. Pressing like a dead weight on my chest. How did I come to be here? Why did I, clip my wings after flying so high? How does a bird begin to swim?
I’m hoping that you are familiar with the theory of evolution. About how, over an extended period of time, species adapt to their immediate environment to ensure an optimum rate of survival. Who I am is the product of an evolution, of sorts. I slipped easily into these changes at first, as one might don an item of clothing in a fitting room. The critical eye is never the first that you behold something with. You just don’t have the facts yet. So I stood there, trying it on for size eagerly, excitedly. Ready for the transformation that would see an end result that was beautiful to behold. The paragon of love, affection, and sex. The quintessence of charm, satire, and intelligent thought. The girl of your dreams. Looking back I think that I may once have caught a glimpse of her, running ahead of me in the distance, through the haze of a dream that flickered dimly. I never caught up. I don’t think that I ever will. The thing about assuming an entity is that you can’t slip it on and off again easily like clothing. Sooner or later, after wearing it for long enough, it becomes a part of you. You evolve. The changes are subtle to begin with. Like the first chilled winds that arrive with autumn. More often than not, you don’t notice that the world is signalling for winter, turning faster on its axis towards it; because, more often than not, you’re too enamoured by the splendour of the changing leaves, too busy marvelling at their bright colour. The shortest day is the turning point. When the leaves have fallen and faded to a dusty, broken brown; when the wind is roaring, beating at the windows and demanding to be heard. When it is too late, and when there are too many, you begin to notice the changes.
Gone are the Instagram filtered memories of summers’ past. They are replaced with this new stark reality. One that I cannot shake. I think that, for me at least, realising my own evolution was the harshest truth I have ever encountered. I could no longer say that I was alone with myself when standing in front of a mirror – for when I did I was confronted by a stranger. This is when pandemonium occurred, when I tried to break free of my confinement in The Box by all the force I could gather.