The Grass is Always Greener

Ok, ladies and gents. Adding another story to my collection. I hope this one hits home, and is something you can relate to. Enjoy. Just another day in the life of me. 🙂

The Grass is Always Greener

Inevitability is daunting. Certainty of an impending doom can drive you insane.

Dazzling giant sunflowers surround me in an oh so imperfectly perfect circle, standing eight feet tall; and their stalks are as vibrant as green mildew. At its center, I lay. I lay with my back arched, trying to escape what laid beneath me.

I smother it. I twirl my fingers in between each bristle. I momentarily become Tinker Bell, letting this wind carry me through all of these little earth hairs. It is more intoxicating than I envisioned it so long ago. A high that, unconditionally, keeps on giving. As I lay there with hundreds of tips caressing my back, they dig deeper penetrating my skin until they intimately intertwine with the one thing that makes me feel: my nerves.

Their bringing me the right sensations, however, it comes to mind that it lacks in bringing me all the right sensations. It provides just enough of a quick fix to satisfy me; caressing the tough and wild spots that are hard to get to. The wind has become more restless, blowing faster and harder, and now these green hairs has gotten a strong grip on my nerves; I can only react. I succumb to different strokes. I clench whatever is beneath my palms within my grip, but I know un-naming its existence will not siphon off its power over me. I beg for mercy. Every few strokes, I clench a bit harder. Every couple strokes, through the stalks of the giant sunflowers, I gaze at the fence that I had hopped over what seemed to be so long ago.

I remember, repeatedly – over and over and over again – the numerous satisfactions that brought me … such …happiness. The wind has been extremely strong in these last several strokes, but it is subsiding. I do more than gaze at the fence, I embellish its nature and power. A black hole with luring lights at the horizon. Then it happened. The grip that I had with both my hands had disappeared without notice. I begin to feel detachment, an estrangement from my still intertwined nerves. In that moment, I look back at the fence once again, and I remember from the last time I was there that the grass on that side seemed greener than this… as did the grass on this side when I was standing on the other. That was the last time. The last time was only ten minutes ago.

Often I yell, lusting in the moment. I yell loud and hard. I yell, boisterously, until little busy bees buzz in envy .

There’s a little bit of devil in her angel eyes. She’s a little bit of heaven with a wild side