There's a sense of things when the world around you falls away. All the creation, intentional and purpose driven with aspirations fueling the crafty hands as they whittle away at the fabric of friendship, seems to abandon the original form and molds into something which doesn't need your attention anymore. Here is where I've found myself: the now of a world where my disappearance would certainly not be noticed amongst the very community I have drawn together.
I'm being selfish.
A breeze dances in the trees and rustles the leaves creating a world of music: whispers echoing the coo of a bird's song as the sun banishes the cold of the other worldly enticement. Displaced pressure moving the air concocted this symphony of nature; we see only the vibrations in the air from the moving trees. I am the air pressure dancing around a forest, and the forest goes on being beautiful and thriving without my encouragement.
What do I say to this? What do I do when it's apparent the vitality of my happiness, born of a newfound freedom to experience a group of the closest friends I have ever found, evaporates and the community I desire to be in at all times continues to coalesce around another point? I could take up smoking and forevermore be included in every aspect of the party. I could partake in every extra-"curricular" engagement and forget the foundation I built in some miraculous morality [which has withstood the onslaught of high school pressures]. Or do I simply let it go and move on?
Change is the only constant... The only constant remains change. The only change is the perception of reality from moment to moment and the acceptance of what is seen and understood, comprehended with the constructs of language filtering images into synapses in complex brain structures incomprehensible to the wisest of scientists. So what is my perception saying about this situation? That I don't belong... not even in the perfection of my relationship with all my friends. I will never know what it's like to be in their world because I've never wanted to experience that world.
I am being selfish.
The steps I take from day to day will always shape the wonders I experience. This solitude, this pit of whateverness, is yet another experience I wandered into. Dare I change it? Leave it? My language explores the possibility in so many fashions... and here I am suckling depression for its nourishment...
What nourishment is that?
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