I always walked straight ahead. I never looked back to even contemplate what kind of conditions you were in. I could hear the sound of your feet dragging behind me. I just assumed you were there and i needed you there, I didnt want to be in solitude
I took bites and feasted on your mind and your heart and did not care about how damaged it became because I was hungry.
I would fall asleep in your arms and have you carry me home and not even consider how exhausted your arms were and how fatigued your legs were becoming simply because I was tired. And you would walk Miles.
I was destroying you inside out and the worst part? i think i was fully aware of it
Now I’m here. Alone, starving and sleep deprived because I’m too busy thinking of ways to make it up to you to care about anything else
There are trees. Many, many trees.
Trees as far as the eye can see.
Which isn’t really all that far, because, well, the trees are in the way.
But still. With the sun just coming up, it’s quite beautiful here.
Not that it matters. I like to appreciate moments of beauty like this, but right now, I have more important things to do.
Because I am at WAR.
The mosquitos are everywhere.
The air, the tables, the bathroom, the car, even underneath my dad’s leather gloves.
There’s hundreds of thousands of them, and only eight of us, but I am determined to make this Last Stand count as much as possible.
As a rule, anything that lands on me is DEAD. I’ve probably killed more of the buggers in the last ten hours than in my entire life before this trip. That hasn’t stopped them from landing a few blows, of course: My right arm, both ankles, both cheeks and my left eyebrow are all itching to no end. But I think it’s safe to say I’ve taken out more of them than they have of me.
(Also, shut up about how I have a unibrow and that it therefore wasn’t necessary to specify which eyebrow the sting is on. That joke is only funny when I make it.)
Anyways, for the time being, the mosquitos have decided to leave us alone.
This, it turns out, is because of the cold.
The all-permeating, vicious, biting cold.
Sitting outside the tent in thick woolen socks, jeans and two sweaters, the sinking feeling creeps up on me that we have invaded the mosquito version of Russia.
My toes have ceased communication with the rest of my body. It’s only a matter of time before my fingers follow suit.
And to add to all this, there is no reception here, so instead of complaining about my situation to friends like I usually would, I am forced to dump all my misery into a poem. Well, poem-ish.
Although that is, admittedly, something I have a lot of practice with.
Did I mention it’s so cold my body was physically unable to fall asleep for half the night?
My only ally in this fight is the dragonfly. She probably kills more mosquitos in a night than I can. We haven’t really talked, but I like to consider us on friendly terms.
Anyways, it’s only a few more days until we’ll be retired from the front due to school – a different kind of war. More taxing in the long run, perhaps, but at least there’s running water. And proper lights. And more places to hide in than just a tent from REI.
But really, all of this isn’t even the worst of it.
Don’t even get me started on the 27 hour long collective car-ride.
I find it
A lot of
As if it
To feel this
You assume I
Enjoy or even
You conceive that
Isn’t as autonomous as
The way I
You assume that
I can control
In my chest
That is slowly
Maybe if you
Took a look
Any person that
Aches on a daily
Has been ruined
For a lifetime,
Of all the things I’ve chosen, this was never one//bnc