The Sun.

April 12, 2010
By hyp0allergenic SILVER, Woodhaven, Michigan
hyp0allergenic SILVER, Woodhaven, Michigan
8 articles 0 photos 13 comments

Favorite Quote:
“I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?” -John Lennon


As each is a slave to his mind, and as time, and nature, and the human race are all slaves to the sun, I was a slave to you.


Everything that formed you was in control of me.


The way your heartbeat would hasten in fear each time I inched toward contact.


The way each breath of yours dictated mine; how, no matter my breathing pattern, yours would unfailingly align.


The slight upward curve of your lips as you told me you loved me.


As we are all slaves to the sun, I was a slave to myself.


As we are all slaves to the sun, I was a slave to you.



It was the beginning of summer, the final day of school, the release from one prison to another. It was the time in which the young were freed from the walls that held them captive and the omnipotence that held us all prisoner was at its strongest. I met you in the old cornfield, the abandoned spot on the outskirts of town, behind an old barn that consisted only of ashes and wreckage. No one acknowledged the cornfield in all its empty beauty, with rows of dandelions and wildflowers hiding its extensive past. Two willow trees on either side of the field provided mild comfort in the sharp but lazy sun. The field harbored an eerie feeling, but a beauty that was unsurpassed, yet not easily recognized. It was mine.
Going to the place I called home would mean listening to my mother ramble about her problems and worries; it would mean facing the fact, yet again, that I was not human; not the human they wanted me to be.


So, as I always had, I went to the cornfield. You were there.


Afraid, I slowly stepped towards you, allowing only the tips of my toes to touch the ground. I didn’t make a sound. If you acknowledged me, it would not be my place anymore, but another’s.


As I approached, your outline began to resolve. That which had once been perceived as a threat was now a consolation; rather than feeling sorrow in the fact that my special place was shared by someone else, I was comforted. There was someone who could potentially relate to me, someone who knew something as I knew it.


I began to walk as I normally would.


Fueled with the possibility of a certain happiness I had never known before, my fears retreated to the back of my mind. Each step seemed thunderous, the grass and leaves crinkling beneath my feet, yet I continued.


Your head jerked up from your notebook. You stared for a moment, revealing deep green eyes that seemed to establish an immediate connection within me, and then returned to the page.


I settled beneath the willow across the field and got my own notebook from my bag. Letting my pencil guide me, I began to draw. The lines and curves eventually became you, the lineaments of your face, then the soft, shallow curves of your arms weaving across the page. Your image imprinted to my brain, your resounding green eyes opposite my dull hazel and the dark hair almost matching my own. It was startling to look up and discover you gone.


With the sunset and the sunrise you were there again, and with each day spent together (although separate), I felt myself grow closer to you; I’d sense your presence and your mood. I knew you.


Finally, one day, you spoke to me.


A simple ‘hello’ established the connection. Our conversations catapulted into more than the small talk each in the town was acquainted with, and even the unspoken was mutually understood. Our minds seemed to intertwine, establishing a knowledge and understanding that was secret to any other than us. There was nothing to hide, nothing lost on either side.


We would pick dandelion bouquets for each other and discuss the difference between weeds and flowers; we’d lie beneath our captor that fueled us with life and listen to the bird’s song and the way our breaths aligned with the melody.


We spoke of beauty in life and how it went unrecognized, how the human mind was wasted on those who currently inhabited the world.


You asked me to tell you about the tiny town I resided in, as you were not from here. I explained to you the way everyone ‘knew’ everyone, how everyone ‘talked to’ everyone, but no one really understood each other. I wondered aloud if there was anything to really understand about others, if maybe I was the one to be concerned about. I wondered if feeling this empty and lifeless because of my inability to relate was normal, if others felt it too.


Your only response was, “I know.” That was enough. In those two simple words, you showed me that you understood, that I wasn’t some disfigurement of society. You were the only one who understood. You were the one that freed me.



Touch wasn’t necessary. It was a mutual feeling, although not in the beginning. I would gradually move closer, willing some kind of contact, but I’d feel your heart begin to race, and your toes would curl, and I’d stop.
We never once touched.



As summer went on, the sun began to seem less like a captor and more like encouragement. You made me feel as if I was limitless, as if I could do anything myself.


I forgot that I was always prisoner.


I went to the cornfield more and more often, it being the only place I found home. My mother began to worry, yet her words brought me no remorse.
“What do you do there? Are you okay? Why not stay home today?” She cared to her greatest extent, but she was one of the non-humans. She did not feel as you did.





I asked you about yourself one day, where you were from, what your family was like. You got angry with me, in your own, passive way.


“Why does that matter? We’re here, together. That’s all there is.”


And I accepted it, because you were always enough.





Towards the end of August, you vanished. Every phonebook, every post office, people in town...not one had known you. You were never there.


I was a prisoner of the sun yet again.


I was a prisoner of you and I was a prisoner of myself.


Each of us held captive to a mind.
Here. Now.


Forever.


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This article has 6 comments.


-Missy- BRONZE said...
on May. 8 2010 at 9:32 pm
-Missy- BRONZE, Ahhh, South Dakota
1 article 0 photos 75 comments
This is such a great piece, im glad you came to my thread and told me to read it!

on May. 8 2010 at 1:27 am
.Escape.From.This.Afterlife. GOLD, Short Hills, New Jersey
10 articles 0 photos 94 comments

Favorite Quote:
"bad blood is more satisfying to spill across the floor..."

Your writing style is so beautiful, and completely captivating!  Amazing work!

on May. 7 2010 at 8:18 pm
hyp0allergenic SILVER, Woodhaven, Michigan
8 articles 0 photos 13 comments

Favorite Quote:
“I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?” -John Lennon

Wow, really? Thank you so much!

on May. 7 2010 at 8:13 pm
Kandabear SILVER, East Bend, North Carolina
7 articles 0 photos 94 comments

Favorite Quote:
"I went insane from long intervals of sanity." - Edgar Allan Poe
"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say but what we are unable to say." - Unknown
"You must say drunk on writing so that reality can not destory you." - Ray Bradbury

This is a beautiful, spellbinding, thought provoking, intellectual piece. Its poetic and simple, yet realistic and complex. I really like this. You've done some excellent work. Im jealous. Great job. I'm listing it as one of my favorite pieces.

SandyC SILVER said...
on May. 4 2010 at 6:39 pm
SandyC SILVER, Concord, Other
5 articles 0 photos 79 comments

Favorite Quote:
"In the end it won't matter how many breaths you took, but how many moments took your breath away"

i rly liked this piece...it is captivating, and beatiful and to put it simply i luv it.....yur conclusion and intro were especially amazing...great job:)

on Apr. 28 2010 at 6:04 pm
thewriteidea DIAMOND, Pleasanton, California
67 articles 0 photos 336 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Don't cry that it's over, smile because it has happened."

oh wow!! I really love this. I love the beginning, where you talk about being a slave to the sun and a slave to yourself. The whole piece is purely beautiful and very well-written. Great job!


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