I know you're in turmoil right now, but there's really no proper time to write to you. I might as well just write whenever I want, because I know you'll have no time to read this. You know, World, there's a lot you could learn if you'd just slow down. You're so stunningly attractive on the surface, so smooth and hot and flowing inside just like a healthy human. Sometimes I wish you'd just slow down, let the sun hang in the sky for me. Let the moon hang, a misted orb in a blue sky. Let the clouds unburden themselves over me so I feel clean inside instead of only on the surface.
Maybe if you could just warm the day up a little today, and have one of those days like you did last year, where I stood in the warm sunlight and the rain at the same time. Stood soaking in two levels of happiness, the cleansing sun and rain - so different and yet the same element in many ways. A feeding element that can bring joy or pain, depending on intensity. The two erase each other mostly, but sometimes when they are shared, rainbows appear. My sanity rests on seeing the two meld as one, just as I would wish to be melded with someone, someday.
If that fails, it'd sure be nice to see a storm again, to watch the wind and the trees fighting. The trees always win here, and the wind retreats, so large but still invincible. I'd love to again see the third lightsource you give to light up my window at night while the rain polkadots the landscape and the electricity of the moment sears my uncovered eyes. I don't have to see a tornado, unless it's a tiny and unformed one, aborted before it can wreak havoc on you, below it. Yet somehow, you approve of them. And I must, also. For one cannot only see beauty in the ashes, but sometimes only in what caused the ashes. Not always do you cause the ashes, sometimes you only sorrow over them. And then I know the pain is harder to bear.
Sometimes I wish that you'd taught me to fly, or swim, or walk. Instead my fellow humans taught me to fly encased in metal, to swim in tiled squares, and to walk on formulated concrete. I tire of these things. I long to swim in all the clear pools, to walk on desert sand, and to fly safely on a willing bird. Yet these desires will not be fulfilled in my lifetime. Perhaps someday another with my dreams will come.
Why did I write to you? To ask one thing. Just slow down a little, and let me have some peace in the sunlight and the rain.
EDIT: Oh, and I hadn't mentioned yet that a few days ago my black moor goldfish died. Perhaps I shouldn't have named it Othello?
EDIT2: You know what's incredibly creepy? Since I wrote this, it's now sunny outside and there are large, grey clouds. Go figure. I wonder if you can see the moon? *goes to look*
Nope. No moon that I can see. But it's amazingly beautiful outside!