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Something slightly inspired by "Mad World," by Gary Jules, but not based from it. I came up with it kind of as a pointed story for a certain person in my life. (She didn't get it. rolleyes )
I sit on the bench, watching the world spinning around me. World-weary men and women rush, rush, rush. Iron-grey clouds cast dark shadows on the ground below, and the tiny trees sway in a harsh wind. The people dash this way and that, their hard eyes never daring to meet those of their companions in this mad race. They care so little for those around them, and small wonder. They are so focused on themselves, that they miss the life, the world around them. Even the children are worn-down. A young girl walks past, her head down, dark eyes weary and dull, her youthful face marred by a mask of sadness and lines, lost in her own world. I prayed it was happier than this one.
These poor, mindless followers, they ran in their circles, kept to their schedules, and never left time for the beautiful things. That, I have decided, is what causes the weariness. When a human is cut off from beauty, they wilt, like a plant cast constantly in shadows. Beauty is necessary. Strictness and schedule-keeping are fine, in moderation, but humanity needs freedom, needs beauty, needs creativity, needs magic. When forced into a world of endless meetings, work, numbers and closed places, they grow tired, bitter, hard.
I reach up to feel something wet and cool on my face. Looking up, expecting to see rain, there is nothing, and I suddenly realize I am crying, mourning the loss of a beautiful world. Brushing the tears away, I stand and melt into the crowd, just another sad person in an endless parade.
 Star of Winter · Fri Dec 19, 2008 @ 06:06am · 1 Comments |
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