down with extremes, including temperatures, both physical and mental

Another hot day dawns in the city.  The lady in the alley screams at her grandson, like every other day, morning, noon, and night.  It’s all I can do not to absorb the daily toxic assault on my senses, to sort the good from the bad and hope I got it right.  I hear the sound of a warbler singing in the tree out back (a new yard bird?!), but as I rush out onto the deck, a man fires up his motorcycle two doors down, scaring the bird away for good and drowning out the sound of everything except the white noise in my head.  I miss opportunities for many reasons, not the least of which is my unwillingness to take them.  Instead I sit and struggle to lose touch with reality as it envelops me in the shroud of its cold black wings.  It is so much easier to continue pushing away than to tentatively open up a little and risk feeling different.  The more I read about the natural world, about the beings other than humans that surround us, the more I think I was not meant to be human.  My consciousness is a curse; my constant thoughts the daggers that leave me to limp bleeding through the days.  What I wouldn’t give to not have to make a decision and then question it for eternity afterwards.  What I wouldn’t give to not have to sit in a freezing cold box every day, staring at the menace of two glowing screens.  What I wouldn’t give to not have to keep repeating myself.

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