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Perspective

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There was something about seeing, that to me, was lovable.  It was breathtaking, silencing, and loud.  It swallowed up your attention, never faltering, and never letting it go.  It was always providing, giving new wonders, new puzzles, and new surprises.  

There was something about staring up at mountains that stared down at you.  Looking at each detail it held: life, was bigger than you, in front of your eyes.  Never ending blue contrasting violently with dark green was a sight to behold.   The mountain’s unfathomable heights swallowed you up and scaled you down.  

Trees littered the face of the beast standing in front of me. A trail ran up its side, a pathway to new views.  In order to see more, there was a journey to the top. There, I could stare down at the world below me.  I let my eyes drink up the thing I desired more than anything.

I heard a voice beside me hesitantly question, "Are you ready?"  I was prepared to climb and see more than I ever had before.  I was ready to be immersed in new wonders,  to get a new view and stare down at the civilization that many never escaped.

So I replied with a shaky yes, and we were on our way.

The mountain was high and the atmosphere robbed your breath with each step.  The pain, the weakness, the sickness, it was all nothing compared to the beauty I saw: floors carpeted with lush, green grass, tall maples’ and pines’ branches fit perfectly together, creating a ceiling above me.  Animals stalked in the distance, looked at me, and wondered at me.  Icy blue streams constantly changed and flowed.  The breathtaking sight was forever embedded in my mind.

The white walls flying past me now are strikingly different from the lush oaks and pines that surrounded me before.  The stark white tiles of the floor were harsh on my eyes compared to the soft, lush grass that I so vividly remembered flooding the ground. The fake, clean smell was so different from the crisp atmosphere I loved breathing in. It was painful to think that this would be the last thing I would ever see.
A voice trying to be convincing questioned me, as a tight hold constricted my hand. “Are you ready?” It whispered.  I wasn’t, but I gave the voice no answer.  I wasn’t ready to continue being pushed along, each squeak of the bed’s wheels making me flinch.
There was nothing breathtaking about this sight.  There was nothing here that made me wonder, or made me love seeing.  The mundane views of the hospital made me restless, and hateful.  White hallways passed, each looking the same.  Powder blue masks covering unfamiliar faces approached me, and mumbled reassuring words, which were nothing compared to snow capped mountains. The sharp metallic tools were dull compared to the shine of the icy streams.  The mask and tubes that approached my face was nothing I was used to.

And the darkness I woke up to became a prison away from the sight I loved.  





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