This sounds so silly and melodramatic, talking about worlds and science being wrong. Once something has been scientifically proven, it is considered fact, which is perfectly normal and reasonable. Sometimes, though, we (or at least I) feel like it is necessary to refuse what is already known and accepted.
But enough of that. Right now, I have more important things to do than muse about my opinions of life. The sky above me is writhing, twisting in on itself, as if in agony. I can feel the clouds scream and moan, and their pain almost becomes my own. I wince, and my eyes waver, just for a moment, glancing down at my feet to see if they are still planted firmly on the ground. To my relief (though it was accompanied by a slight feeling of disappointment, rolling around at the base of my stomach), I stood solid, a few blades of dry grass bent and crumpled below me, solid proof that gravity was as it should be.
Around me, though, the silence was smothering. It filled me, like hot air. I could feel my arms and legs swelling up, as if I was a balloon, ready to drift off at the slightest breath of wind. My fingers grasped onto stray hands of grass, hoping they would lend some sort of support. I longed for the noise, the rumblings and mutterings of the clouds. Without their sound, the world was empty, too quiet, as if I was living in a world of mutes. Compared to the deep, mountainous murmurs of the beings high above me, the conversation of a regular human seemed inconsequential, useless. To tell the truth, I don't think I will ever stop feeling this way. Once you have experienced something as grand as that, earth loses much of its sparkle. The glory of life dims.
I realize now just how little I matter in the big scheme of things. The chatter of everyday life is a waste. Nothing that goes on in the life of an individual matters, no matter who they are. Really.
It's a hard idea to process, even for me, so I expect that a lot of people just aren't able to understand. The song is right. It is a small world, after all: Compared to the rest of the universe, we are just a tiny pinprick, a blemish. Nothing more.
But enough of that. Right now, I have more important things to do than muse about my opinions of life. The sky above me is writhing, twisting in on itself, as if in agony. I can feel the clouds scream and moan, and their pain almost becomes my own. I wince, and my eyes waver, just for a moment, glancing down at my feet to see if they are still planted firmly on the ground. To my relief (though it was accompanied by a slight feeling of disappointment, rolling around at the base of my stomach), I stood solid, a few blades of dry grass bent and crumpled below me, solid proof that gravity was as it should be.
Around me, though, the silence was smothering. It filled me, like hot air. I could feel my arms and legs swelling up, as if I was a balloon, ready to drift off at the slightest breath of wind. My fingers grasped onto stray hands of grass, hoping they would lend some sort of support. I longed for the noise, the rumblings and mutterings of the clouds. Without their sound, the world was empty, too quiet, as if I was living in a world of mutes. Compared to the deep, mountainous murmurs of the beings high above me, the conversation of a regular human seemed inconsequential, useless. To tell the truth, I don't think I will ever stop feeling this way. Once you have experienced something as grand as that, earth loses much of its sparkle. The glory of life dims.
I realize now just how little I matter in the big scheme of things. The chatter of everyday life is a waste. Nothing that goes on in the life of an individual matters, no matter who they are. Really.
It's a hard idea to process, even for me, so I expect that a lot of people just aren't able to understand. The song is right. It is a small world, after all: Compared to the rest of the universe, we are just a tiny pinprick, a blemish. Nothing more.
