On a Breeze

April 9, 2010

“Do you know why humans invented fun?”
“Because someone smiled and thought it was a nice thing to do?”
“Because we needed something to take our mind of all the troubles in our pathetic little lives.” I say snapping a twig in half.
We are sitting on the wet gutter of the street next to the Graveyard, small pellets of rain drip onto our shoulders as the water absorbs into our jeans wetting our butts.
“The whole concept behind a hobby is just because people need something to take their mind off things, off the misery. Back in the day we weren’t trouble with such notions. We had to hunt for foods, collect, gather, struggle to survive. Humans are moving too fast, and struggling to cope. We will be our own demise.”
I spit onto the wet tar road, the sun is beginning to go down the twilight helps add to the melancholy feel that I can’t seem to escape from.
“Well that’s cheerful.” My friend says, feigning a smile.
“It’s not about being cheerful, it’s about being true.”
“Well, tell me, how does that make you feel?” He says raising an eyebrow.
“Like shit.” I moan.
“That’s why there’s fun, and hobbies, maybe you’re right, but ignorance is bliss, no one wants to be fucking miserable.”
I think for a moment, like his words semi make sense within my mind, but I am unable to grasp this concept, my mind travels to my ex girlfriend… the love I once felt… still feel. The feeling of sickness and pain when I think of it. Why does my brain keep taking me to her. Hurting me.
“I disagree.” I say to my friend. “If no one wants to be miserable why do we listen to sad music? Why watch sad films, why almost a year after a tragic event do we still keep thinking back, making ourselves sad.”
“I guess there’s no arguing with you.” My friend says, looking away.
I can tell he’s trying to think of a topic change, I must be miserable company.
“What do you think would happen if a book was sold. A riveting story, fantastic, everyone was reading it, it was a best seller… and halfway through they found the last half of the book was blank. No conclusion.” I ask.
“There’d be an uproar, people would want the whole story, they’d want there moneys worth.”
“But maybe that is the story, like, you write a movie and a book, and it always has this conclusion, but life’s not like that, you never know what’s next and you just keep asking. Maybe the point of the book is that? That it’s not predestined. Like what Forrest Gump said, we’re all accidental like on a breeze. The book takes you in, makes you love or hate the characters, makes you believe in them…. then it just ends. Because the story isn’t complete. There is no true ending. You discover it for yourself….”
I stare deep and intense into the palms of my hands, hoping for some glimpse of what the future holds. My friend says nothing.
I breathe out as condensation comes out, like mist… mist…. You cannot see what’s next in the mist….
A single tears rolls down my cheek.
The warmth is real, it’s not to be debated. It is real, it is clear.
I look up at the sky.
I cannot see the stars, they are clouded by pollution.
This is the sort of world we live in.

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