Appreciate the Sun

Wind torrents within my mind, bouncing like a fast disease running from ear to ear. Go away wind. And you too, sun, go away air, go away oxygen, so I can forget you, too. My soul is screaming to live off of memories. No, just get the fuck out, I’m sick of the wind! Whistling, cutting like a knife, sending a constant chill through my spine. I can only understand; my soul is angry, too.

Did it have to come to this? When I listen to the sun, I feel at one with the world… as if… somehow, everything makes sense The forces of nature chime in and almost seem know what they’re taking about. But then, as strong winds push at my ear canal and shove me, I snicker, because I’m reminded by the bitter nothings in my ear.

I enjoy fighting, keep it coming.

Adaptation in the form of dark black wings sprouts from the muscles and tendons behind my shoulder blades. Suspended in air on new wings, now I know me. Thanks. I know what I have to offer, and I know that I am making the best out of my life. Knowing that forgiveness is a release of the past… we’ll just have to let go of the fact that you’ll never grow, you’ll never change. And while paired with the sun, you’re tolerable- the rest of the time you’re just a nuisance.

I am exhausted, and yet so relaxed.

I am floating effortlessly by the tough lessons I swam through in that sea of memory. I can only understand. I can only live. Can’t I just have my own opinion and float on forever? I don’t want to hear what they have to say, in the “real world,” the sun beating down on me or the clouds sugar-coating a hot day. The wind will always talk bad about me, or lie to me. It will only push and hurt, because it has no other job. We share a healthy, low-maintenance enemy-ship and I’m happy. Happier than one could ever be. I just wish I could explain it to the other guys.

So go ahead wind. Bring your pain and rain, your thunder and hunger, and your stupid storms. Tear shit up. I’ll fix it.

I will still have the sun. And my umbrella.


About Jonny Blevins

Be proud of who you are, wherever you are. I'm sure other dimensions and worlds exist. Trying to be photogenic is gross. Weak stomachs are weird. I talk about my hypothetical Chow Chow, Fa Mulan, regularly. Handan, China is like West Virginia with more Chinese people. Pittsburgh is alright. I'm there now.
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