story now, craft later

It seemed close to touching the sky. 

 

Decorated with a mud-like color, its rough exterior was easy to judge before touching. Fractals ingrained its skin, stretching throughout its body. It stood stoic---an undeniable beauty seen by all beings. A plane of soft wind gently touched the varying branches of the tree, almost as if asking for permission before hugging her whole. Her leaves laughed as though being tickled. 

 

Watching nature interact, I slowly began to notice I can go quite some time without speaking when I’m alone. I find greater interest in my other senses—-seeing, hearing, smelling. Raising my head with the wind, I peered to the gentle sky. My inquisition of the incessantly transfiguring painting that coated the earth filled my body with warmth. Eyes closed, sitting in waves of contentment, tender touches of comfort held my skin as the clouds offered room to the sun. 

 

“Chi?”, a confused voice summoned my attention. I abruptly opened my eyes from the darkness that embraced them. As my vision found balance, tan knees met my eyes first. Dark denim shorts clothed her thighs while a light white tank top covered her chest. Her hands were occupied with two nearly white cups of coffee that had a very obvious milk to coffee imbalance.

 

“Mj?”, I asked, sharing her confusion. 

 

“I thought you had a class”, she inquired with deep curiosity. Her brows furrowed then relaxed as a smile crept on her face. 

​​

Unrushed, undulating, particles oversee our existence in every new stroke of faultless rearrangement.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Outloud, I revealed with amazement, “The sky is like a continuously changing painting”.

 

Mj turned to me with eyes wide and curious. Raising her head, it seemed that a wave of whimsical ease and understanding filtered through her body. Her lips squirmed into a smile, eyes twinkling from the impact of an inherent beauty.

 

“Hmm, I never thought of it like that”.

 

Mj brought her cup to her lips, drinking the caffeinated beverage with a pensive expression and a slight smirk.

 

……“Mj”, I paused for a moment, scrambling internally for the right words. Peering beyond her, I asked, “Do you ever feel overwhelmed by your existence?”

 

Mj’s brows returned to their furrowed placement. Her eyes found mine as she asked, with what sat as concern, “What do you mean?”

 

What do you mean? Not that I curate a ranking, but I hate that question.

 

“I guess what I am asking is, does existence ever feel heavy for you? That there are too many options. That we were placed here and now are tasked with creating meaning in all that we do. That we cannot disappoint or concern. That we always have to be better or more. That to exist means to absorb. That there are entities soon to be born and those that did not get the chance to. Not to say I dislike the opportunity that is our existence, but has existing ever felt heavy?” 

 

I could hear the reverberating beat of my heart echoing in my ears as I peered into her pupils. Within the darkness of her brown, dirt-colored eyes, I searched for resonance.

 

Mj appeared stunned by the apparent intensity of my question. Her eyes, now wide, seemed to be excavating a stream of thoughts, sifting out an answer. 

 

Looking past me, she shared with doubt, “I’m not sure, honestly”

 

She continued, “Maybe I haven’t thought hard enough about this. I think I often forget the absurdity and randomness of our collective existence”. Her mouth twitched to the side, it seemed like she was not fully satisfied with her response.