I found out something interesting about my world just the other day. My world of rot and writhing odors which assault the soul, of solitude and sorrow inescapable. I found out an interesting tidbit of information about my world, with its dying devouring the dead and its nearly colorless features of decay. This monotonous, repetitive, neverending plain of depression.
This land is under sunlight.
I had always imagined sunlight was the harbringer of joy and blessing, gifts of life and warmth flowing forth like... well, like sunshine. I had never stopped to consider by what light I saw my wasteland. I never stopped to notice that I, in fact, could see.
Perhaps this is what saves most people from this land. They lay backwards, ready to finally give in and sink below the dust, and suddenly they have to sit abrubtly to avoid the blindness one gets from gazing directly into the sun.
Sunlight.
The sun isn't quite what I had expected to find here. Had I expected this celestial lightbulb, I'd certainly have figured the discovery would bring me to my knees, saved.
Saved by the knowledge that I am able to see.
I am not saved. I could be; would be if I felt it. But I realized something: I can see this sun, but I cannot feel it. No warmth, no summer sunshine childhood memories rushing back. I realize why I never noticed it there before. Before, there was nothing but the light to tell me it was there.
Maybe people--the ones who are saved-- see this sunlight and suddenly feel the warmth. I did not. I do not.
So I sit here, and I stare at the sun until I am blinded. I won't come back as the rabbit or snake, now. I will have to come back as some sort of insect. Something blind and feeble. Easily conquered.
I will be on my hands and knees, begging for something to keep me alive, keep me going, and then...
And then, smoosh. All over. Fell under the unapproving butt of the person whose world I inhabit. Unnoticed. That's okay. I'm caught in the cycle anyways. It will be their turn next, and maybe if I'm good I can eventually come back as something larger. Maybe if I'm bad, I can come back as something stronger.
Maybe.
Until then, I watch the wildlife, or wild death around me.
I find myself, so I do what I must.
What I must.
Must.
SQUISH
This land is under sunlight.
I had always imagined sunlight was the harbringer of joy and blessing, gifts of life and warmth flowing forth like... well, like sunshine. I had never stopped to consider by what light I saw my wasteland. I never stopped to notice that I, in fact, could see.
Perhaps this is what saves most people from this land. They lay backwards, ready to finally give in and sink below the dust, and suddenly they have to sit abrubtly to avoid the blindness one gets from gazing directly into the sun.
Sunlight.
The sun isn't quite what I had expected to find here. Had I expected this celestial lightbulb, I'd certainly have figured the discovery would bring me to my knees, saved.
Saved by the knowledge that I am able to see.
I am not saved. I could be; would be if I felt it. But I realized something: I can see this sun, but I cannot feel it. No warmth, no summer sunshine childhood memories rushing back. I realize why I never noticed it there before. Before, there was nothing but the light to tell me it was there.
Maybe people--the ones who are saved-- see this sunlight and suddenly feel the warmth. I did not. I do not.
So I sit here, and I stare at the sun until I am blinded. I won't come back as the rabbit or snake, now. I will have to come back as some sort of insect. Something blind and feeble. Easily conquered.
I will be on my hands and knees, begging for something to keep me alive, keep me going, and then...
And then, smoosh. All over. Fell under the unapproving butt of the person whose world I inhabit. Unnoticed. That's okay. I'm caught in the cycle anyways. It will be their turn next, and maybe if I'm good I can eventually come back as something larger. Maybe if I'm bad, I can come back as something stronger.
Maybe.
Until then, I watch the wildlife, or wild death around me.
I find myself, so I do what I must.
What I must.
Must.
SQUISH
Community Member
i have a world of my own too
its not at all like yours
here too there is sunlight
but after being filtered through the green of the trees it no longer blinds me
the sky holds beuty in it and flight is possible
wind could be a pet and obeys comands
water is breathable
for my dreams are woven into my world
there is a stong base of perriwinkle
emotions are smears of color on the background
i escape into my world
you should visit me