Life and Death and Adorable Pets

His Restless Nature

 

He is restless

Constantly in motion

Like smoke billowing through the air

Never still: twisting, contorting

Fleeing one second, attacking the next

As changeable as the wind

Creating flawless works of art with a flick of his fingers:

Goddesses, and elves, and water-nymphs

Their long-lashed eyes gazing down from the heavens…

But only for a heartbeat, a snapshot:

Before they become boring, and torn to shreds

By his own restless nature

Moving on, moving away

Fleeing from himself

Leaving behind scraps of beauty:

A glimpse, perhaps,

Of what he could do, of what he could become

If only his head

Was not stuck in the clouds.

Irony

 

If I could still breathe, I would laugh with irony.

All my life, I had one obsession: I wanted to live forever. I wanted to live on, and on, and on. I wanted to never feel the aching of old age, never to be ill, never to die.

I spent my days obsessing, worrying, freaking out over the tiniest things. I called the doctor when I had a cold: I carried around a first aid kit with me everywhere. I wasted my days away, worrying about death, when I should’ve been more concerned about living.

It was an absolute obsession and it consumed my life. As a result, I never truly lived. I never watched the sun set, or felt the silkiness of a bird’s feathers, or lay down in the woods and listened to the wind in the trees. I never did anything last minute or spontaneous. I never did anything that could be the slightest bit dangerous: I never had proper, good old-fashioned fun.

So I wasted away my entire life worrying about my death.

And, of course, I died. There was no way of stopping it. After all my efforts, I couldn’t prevent my death from coming. I couldn’t hold it up for one single second. Along with everyone else, I died.

But I’m still here.

I don’t know what’s supposed to happen, but I know it’s not this.

The house I lived in is now my prison. Perhaps it’s because I wasted my life indoors that, after my death, I am eternally confined to my house. I sit here, unchanged, as my house falls to pieces around me. I watch as the cobwebs stretch out to cover every surface, as the water drips through the ceiling from a hole in the roof I never mended, as the windows grow darker and darker as the layers of grime build up.

At first, I thought; “Someone will come. Someone will come to check on me,”

But as the years drifted by, unchanging, I realised the truth.

Why would anyone come a visit me when I had never visited them? The truth was, I had no friends in life. I had no need for friends, so consumed was I by my foolish quest. And I would spend my death lonely as a result.

The years yawn by and here I remain.

If I could go back – try again – I would. I would do things differently. I would travel to another country and lose myself in their culture. I would learn a forgotten language just because I could. I would go for long runs and not stop until I was exhausted. I would live as though I would die tomorrow. Because, I think, I’ve learnt my lesson now. Life is a gift. And I threw mine away unopened.

I wasted my life obsessing about my death.

Now I’m going to spend my death obsessing about my life.

If my lungs weren’t clogged up with dust, I would laugh with the irony.

Image was taken and edited by me

Bubbles, Bleach and Bright Lights

Brooke Shaden Photography

A friend recently introduced me to Brook Shaden’s surreal photography. And before long, I was as addicted as she is!

I just love her work. They are so original, so imaginative, just brimming with ideas and creativity. Looking at them takes me away from this boring old world and into someplace where anything can happen.

The stories behind the pictures sometimes leap out at you, capture your heart… sometimes they take a while to reveal themselves. I feel inspired to write something – anything! – after looking at her fantastic work.

Each picture is its own story. Each has layers of meanings, hidden symbolism. They are beautiful, eerie, disturbing, emotional, freaky and brilliant.

Brooke Shaden says, “There is a particular feeling to all of my photographs, one that touches on the juxtaposition of the real yet surreal, a fantasy and a dream yet riddled with reality.”

 

Interested? Why not visit Brook Shaden’s website here.