‘I could’ve been a better person.’ I say. When I look out the window at different angles, the view changes – but the scenery stays the same. I should’ve opened the door instead of looking at the window trying to move scenery with my eyes.
Sitting in a dimly lit room with one window that I can see out of, I can see the sky. I hear a noise, and I move my head and I can see a plane now. The people on that plane are very lucky – they can see changing scenery every second as they move through the sky, and in a few hours, they will see something amazing. Soon the trees won’t be as green as they were yesterday, they will be red a million miles away from home.
A better person is a person learned. How can I learn everything If I can’t leave this house? What I mean by learned isn’t memory work or studying – it’s emotional. When did I ever WISH I could cry so much at the first time I saw a wild lion, or the first time my hand punctured the skin of water so clear that I could only tell my hand wasn’t breathing anymore by the fish swimming beneath my palm?
A green carpet lies 2 metres away from me to the right – a mimic of grass using wool. It is enough for me when dawn breaks so that the carpet is coloured almost like real grass – but not quite. Everything is not quite. Not quite there, not quite real ENOUGH and not quite that thing that I wished for it to be.
It’s ok, but when the dawn ceases to shine because the sheer mist drapes over this town, the carpet fails to do what I want. The green carpet is lit with dull light, like everything else that I can see from this window.
When I reach my hand out and allow the rain to lightly dent my skin, I close my eyes and see what it feels like to be outside. Then I shut the window as hard as I can because I remember that there is nothing to remember about the feeling of the outside world because I don’t know, WHAT that feeling is. Do you, who can go out everyday, feel the magic of raindrops bouncing off your skin? That rain which came to you through a whole cycle of water – the rain which came all the way from the oceans just to see you?
I sit near my window at the right moment in time to catch the sunlight before it passes, with a stare at the sun for as long as I can before I blink. This is because life is so beautiful. That such a sun can pass and rise everyday without fail – no wonder people say as ‘unfailingly as the sun rises from the east in the morning and sets in the west,’ that is what I promise. That nature can be so consistent but so unpredictable makes me wonder why ,
why I am always living in a house built by people when nature is home to millions of living beings
I will try to go outside today.
If not today, I will hope for the rain once more to use my skin like a trampoline, where I will accept as unfailingly as a trampoline does, seat drops and backflips until the hail on my skin finally reminds me,
what it feels like to live on an Earth this beautiful.