Just a Leaf

Again, I pulled from my book "642 Things to Write About."  The prompt was "Write about a tree from the point of view of one of its leaves."

Here's what I got:

Curious Leaf. 

I can't wait until fall.  I hear about it, but I am not sure it even exists.  I only know of one season since I was just a young bud on my branch and therefore so much of my life is pondering whether or not this season is real.  The tree says to have faith, I will meet the fall.  He says he's seen things I haven't, but I'm not so sure.  How can I believe in something I have never witnessed myself?  He says I will prefer the season I am in right now, but that's hard to believe.  I am plagued with the mundane and crave excitement! 

If there is another season, I can't wait.  Every day, I am irritated by the leaves closest to me.  They all seem so unified and content to be where they are.  They believe the tree about the seasons and how they change.  I ask them how and why they just believe, but they don't have a logical answer, which makes me feel confused and alone.  I am not like the other leaves. I am tired of the same colors around me, they rejoice in them.  And I am bored of seeing the same patch of sky, they honor it.  I want to see the sun and moon from a different place, it's like they don't wonder what else is out there.  I just don't want to be here anymore.  Plus, if I have to hear one more stupid joke about nuts from the leaf next to me, you know, the leaf who has a big brown spot on his face? I am going to go insane. 

Every day I beg the tree to ask the sky for a nice breeze to take me away so I can get away from these chattering, quivering, petals. All they do is sing about the sunshine and praise the rain.  And every day, the tree tells me to appreciate the season I am in, that one day things will be different.  He says soon it will be cold and I will die and I will be wishing for the greener days that are upon me in the present. Hmphhh.  Ok, tree.  

The other leaves call him the Giver of Life, which I suppose quite literally, he is.  But he's also 300 years old.  What does he know about being a leaf? He's a tree.  He has roots that don't allow him to move.  He is just stuck in his ways, the same way he is stuck in the ground.  I want to fly!  I want to fly far away from here!  He doesn't know how I feel up here, stuck in this hell, stuck on a branch.  A tree can't relate to a leaf, no matter how hard he tries.  He says he knows what's best for me.  And then I am annoyed.  I want everyone to leave me alone while I wait.  

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I began to turn orange, which was exciting.  I had never seen such vibrant, different colors.  But it did not last long, just as the tree had said.  One time he said youth is wasted on the young and I believed at the time that he was just mad at his bark because it was so wrinkly and course.  But as the days started getting colder and colder, I too began to look brown and ugly and I began to understand the tree. It seemed as if the tree had been telling the truth about it all, but I was too proud to tell him.  Instead, I told him I loved the color brown and that it suited me.  

Then one night,  the wind blew so hard, I heard a snap.  Before I could register what was happening,  I felt myself soaring through the air with the wind under my belly, which was lovely.  But it did not last long.  The wind had had enough and down I came, never to be carried by the wind again.  I have been raked over and over again and blown from here to there with no power over myself.  I miss the old tree.  I miss the leaves who have all been scattered in the wind.  I can't fly because I am dependent on a breeze and I have no branch to anchor me to safety.  I am stuck.  The old tree was right.  I should have appreciated the green season.  I should have appreciated the rain, feeling the wind on my face, and the sun and the moon.  I should have believed that the season would one day change.  

Youth is most definitely wasted on the young. 

A Love Letter to Someone You Hate

My sister-in-law bought me this book for Christmas and I am so excited to start pulling from it.  I’ve been lucky for the most part and rarely experience writer’s block because I always seem to have something to say, even if it’s not important, which is irritating or superfluous to others at times, I am sure.  But even though I am rarely at a loss for words, I haven’t been writing at all and it’s because I have been reading a lot at night.   I realize and have possibly accepted (at least this month) that there is only enough time in my packed-full days to choose between the two. 

Laziness is so confusing to me.  Sure, I realize that not everyone is the same, but I do genuinely wonder how someone can stand being lazy when there are thousands of things to do before you die and no matter how motivated and busy and energetic you are, you still will never get to do them because of the time constraint.  I could live until I am 100 and still never come close to doing everything I ever want to do. This is actually a huge issue and struggle for me and it’s part of my New Year’s Resolution to try to just enjoy what I experience, choose between things without guilt, focus, and stop being such a perfectionist all the time, so I am sure I will be writing about it more. 

Anyway, I thought it would be fun to choose one of these 642 things to write about today since I am snowed in and have already read two books.  The first topic I chose was  “Write a love letter to someone you hate.” Muahahahaha!!!  Intriguing, except there is just one problem—I don’t hate anyone, honestly.  I dislike some people.  I am indifferent with some people.  But I don’t hate anyone.  So instead, I imagined what I would say if I were someone I love and was writing to the person who hurt them. I am usually more angry when someone I love is hurt rather than if it happens to me anyway. 

So here’s what I came up with…..

Dear Incredibly Talented Asshole,

It is amazing how beautifully you have perfected your tendencies to be a selfish, indecent person.  I want to applaud your ability to manipulate so meticulously, the will in which you must have in order to do it, and the speed at which you are able to throw yourself into a complete state of denial about how you make other people feel and how horrible your actions are.  I really must get some tips on how you sleep at night.  Ambien?  Melatonin?  Please share!!!  J  I want to tell you that I am in awe that you can wake up and look at yourself in the mirror knowing what your motives are.  It is truly one of the wonders of the world that no one has run over you with their car on purpose or by accident and because of your existence, I am a firm believer that karma is not a real force in the universe that you so blatantly shit on on the reg.  So thank you for clearing that up for me!!

Remember that time that you thought you could make yourself feel better by making me feel like nothing?  I want to tell you that I am thankful that you made me a better, stronger person and that in the end, I’ve got nothing but love for the entire crappy experience I had with you.  Thank you for being so despicable toward me that not even the sneaky, lying, trickster we refer to as nostalgia, can distort my memories of you.  Remember all the times that you left me not only high and dry, but also confused and crying and scared?  Remember putting me through the spin cycle?  Thank you for every single time that you hurt me and made me feel weak!  I am stronger today! 

I realize that I am being a tad bit passive aggressive right now because I do have some emotion left.  I have like .000009% craps to give left in my pocket and I do honestly apologize for that .000009%.  But this love letter is the last straw.  As soon as it’s mailed, I will never think of the stupid, illogical points you always seem to make in an argument…with EVERYONE.  I will never think about your annoying hats that I disregarded because I truly loved you and because love is as blind as Helen Keller was.  I won’t even remember the time you crapped your pants at Walmart and had to buy some $5 pants just to get home.  I won’t think about how much I hated when you said you read a book and in reality, you read 20 pages out of 300.  That isn’t reading a book, just so you know. It’s super annoying to me. AND FOR THE RECORD….the phrase is DENIAL IS NOT JUST A RIVER IN EGYPT.  NOT THE NILE!  You sound like an idiot and if you ever want a girlfriend, this should be corrected ASAP.  Finally, I want you to know that although I will never again think of you and feel any kind of emotion simultaneously, I will always have the strength that I gained from the marks you left on me.  And for that, you will always be remembered, Incredibly Talented Asshole. 

With Love,

Me.

P.S.  And stop singing Oasis like Oasis.  Wonderwall doesn’t have to be impersonated.