It’s funny how the human brain can take everything you know about a person and adjust your perception of their face accordingly.
“The mind I love must have wild places, a tangled orchard where dark damsons drop in the heavy grass, an overgrown little wood, the chance of a snake or two, a pool that nobody’s fathomed the depth of, and paths threaded with flowers planted by the mind.”
Stumbling, as if righteously intoxicated, I can feel my face burn all shades of red, a color enhanced by an exceedingly wild appearance. The cooling sensation rushes to add a kick to my pulse, as if ricocheted into the air and tumbling down again, firework-style. I run faster. I pretend - escaping the danger of a faceless, daunting hunter. As the sweat coalesces into a beaded cluster, my skin begins to feel like armor. Nearly thirty seconds have passed. Stop counting, I tell myself, and stop thinking everything at once. And here, I melt, knee-deep in the muck, sucking the air deep into my chest and then fiending for another gasp. Adrenaline - once, twice, over and over it coerces my legs into silent propellers. I work at the practice until I am sure that I have emptied my lungs. I cough, sputter. Stay strong, steady. In waves, I distribute my self-made and faultless drug throughout my bright blood. Out with it.
I encouraged myself to let go; the base of this great hill was always warmer than its peak. I released my fingernails from the dirt they were lodged into, and began my descent from there. My heart raced, palpitating and always repeating. The noise of nostalgia flowed from the space between my lips, somehow made new amidst this atmosphere. Finally my body stopped rotating and, submissively, I felt my body collapse and crumple up. I must have resembled a burning, dancing twig engulfed in flame. The universal sound of innocence enveloped me. I thought to myself about auras, and if they were really hanging about in the air outlining some-body. I am so much older now, but I know I felt safety then — not in the metal-chains on bars sort of way, but in the way that my straw-toned baby hairs, reminiscent of the leaf-crunching on hay rides, would tickle and fall into my eyes with each passing breeze. In the way, I thought, of my right view of the world. This is the way I think.
I am so happy. :)
I don’t care who you are or where you reside, go outside now and look for Teddy. He’s white and very light brown, the colors of fall, or leaves turning. He has chestnut brown eyes that will be glowing red in the dark. Oreo misses him. I miss him. Help.