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Mosquitoes, Trees and Hidden Places
This piece reflects the many obstacles we all, as humans, experience and how sometimes we break.
If there is one insect I cannot stand it is the mosquito. I rather the itchy bites than the taunting way they hover. I find there are mosquitoes in human nature, willing to furtively watch you in attempt to discover anything worthy of talking about. It seems people will go to great lengths just to keep themselves occupied or, in other cases, to raise their social status within the vast sea of people.
I do recognize that I am a little odd compared to others. Not in the quirky kind of way, but in a way that makes others wonder why I don't behave similarly. I'm not saying I'm psychotic or even slightly crazy. Don't get me wrong, I am just as much human as anyone else walking this earth.
The thing is, I do not want to fit in. My life has been a roller coaster of Do's and Don'ts and it took a while, but I realized that following these limitations and cornering myself with labels wasn't who I was. There is much more serenity and beauty among this world that can be easily used, instead of belonging to a crowd, to ease the mind. I do understand that those who need company. I myself do miss the company of others. However, I cannot say I would rather the presence of a mosquito than of being alone.
People tend to hover, alike mosquitoes. They do not care for keeping to themselves because that would only push others away, and loneliness is often a horrid thing to endure.
I was once a mosquito, just as you or the majority of people seem to be. I do not regret this past. If it were not for my carelessness and anxieties I would have never understood what it's like to be an average human being. Comprehending the very nature of human beings is crucial for survival. Although that very survival can depend on what you are trying to accomplish. Are you just trying to survive school, or maybe something a bit more complex? The survival and experience of true happiness is what I am looking to conquer. However, I still find that understanding others is needed, even if I rarely converse with them.
When you begin to experience loneliness, an endless cycle of thoughts will be your only companion. This contemplation of life, in which I do often, begins to get repetitive and I end up wishing, almost every time, that I had a real person, not a mosquito, to share these ideas with.
I don't think all mosquitoes are necessarily malevolent. In fact I do not really believe any one is evil. Although the ones that do bite are also the people who have characteristics of being outwardly selfish and perhaps cruel.
I feel as if I see the world in a different lens, but I think that there may be someone out there that shares that lens. I hope to find that person soon. However, as I sit here in my narrow little room I begin to believe that the possibility of someone understanding how I feel, is very slight.
The only way to differentiate a real mosquito from a human mosquito, besides the obvious, is by listening carefully to the little white lies that only humans seem to master so skillfully. Mosquitoes do not have the capacity to understand this concept. I have a bit of an issue with this. I can't seem to lie as well as I use to be able to. This is a consequence of wanting to speak your mind. However, I would not change this if it meant that I had to think more narrow minded.
Yes, I do not tell lies.
The mud is thick and smells like Earth. I love this. I slide my heels, then soles and finally my toes into the wet substance and feel like I am free.
This is what living feels like.
I submerge my hands and forearms into the earth and then pull them straight up, with fistfuls of the very material used to weave the Earth's surface together. Smiling up at the sun, my body collapses happily to the ground and relaxes.
I wonder what it's like to be a butterfly.
Laughing. I hear laughing. More than one figure. More than two. How could someone make fun of such a gorgeous scene? The happiness of any human being is the epitome of beauty.
There are two boys and one girl. I call them boys and girls not because of their age, as they are practically young adults. The boy closest to me is someone I know, someone who I have made a series of eventful and sometimes worrisome encounters with. His hair looks like sand and his eyes the same. I feel kind of bad for him. Someone so awful acting must have an even more awful life. He's quite tall and looms over me.
He mocks me with a smirk and lifts his chin, c***ing his head to the side. "Only you would be found playing in a pile of s***." The girl giggles and the other keeps his head down. He's trying to seem nonchalant but his eyes tell another story. Mosquito.
I look Daniel right in the eye , while my right hand grabs a perfect scoopful of mud, waiting for him to go on. He raises an eyebrow. "Whatcha think you're do---", I strike him right in his mouth and he goes into a fit.
"What the f***!?" He cries, almost unintelligibly. His face is dirtied with brown and he breaks into a hacking, wet cough. I see the other boy look away quickly to hide a smile. He pulls bits of mud off of his tongue and gags quite dramatically. I rise swiftly to my feet and clasp my hands together, in front of me.
"Oh Daniel", I say "At least I don't eat s***." The girl backs off a bit and looks scared. I didn't mean to scare them. It's a funny sight really, they should have a better sense of humor. The girl grabs Daniel by the shoulder and he shoves her behind him.
"You're f***ing insane you b****." But he leaves nonetheless, his little minions following behind. I laugh. Not a fake laugh, but a real hearty laugh and then I collapse right back into the mess below me and make mud angels.
It's not until the sun begins to set that I head back home. The porch light is flickering on and off and I know my mom is waiting for me.
Those kids should of known not to mess with me. I guess all of them should know that. They still continue to mock me, but only because they are afraid of the things that they so badly wish to experience and thus, they end up scolding those who bite into the things that their heart desires. I shrug the thought off as I begin to feel loneliness again, thinking about others and their mistakes. I almost wish, just slightly, that I could make those mistakes again. Just to belong. But I can't go back to that life. I can't. It's not a true way of living and I will only go on with a spark in my eyes and a hop in my gate. This is who I am.
And I won't change that for anybody.