There are several things in our bodies we don’t think about. Breathing is one. An action done almost involuntarily for the single role of survival. It’s bred into almost every living thing in our world.
Much like other acts, such as eating or attempting to bred with those of the opposite gender of that species. Take a choice of personal preference.
Even when those are the best choices for survival, other options have to be considered. There’s the desire to find social activity outside of the family circle. Creating friendships that last as much as they can, or finding that one special person you can’t live without.
Why do are these the thoughts that I have when I’m sitting here, alone in a chair and staring outside. The sun’s about to set. The sky’s dying orange tint mixes with the ever-fading blue. It disguises itself, if only faintly, of a green shade. Almost the apex of beauty.
“Jackson, are you ready for dinner,” my aunt called up downstairs in her shrill voice. Despite her high-pitched vocal tone she was a strong woman. A knack for adventuring and embracing the unknown.
“Almost,” I called down, “let me finish up this essay real fast.”
I had already finished the essay that was due on Monday. Sitting up from my chair from behind my rusted desk, I grabbed an old lunchbox featuring Calvin and Hobbes. My partners in crime hid away my darkest secrets. Opening the near pristine metal container, I grabbed a package of cloves and took one out.
I knew this wasn’t the best for my health, but hell, being seventeen means I get to try things out. Maybe it’s not for the best future. In ten years, they’ll find some God bringing cure to every damn disease known to human.
Slipping the clove into my lips, I snapped the match on the end of the cinder box and inhaled the smoke as it sparked to life. Flickering the smoldering stick along my trusty desk, the window gave my room fresh air. A cylinder of smoke pushed through into the world. I watched it fly up into the clouds. My eyes wavered and drew into the clouds. Most days, I found myself staring up at them with no intended desire.
Was it time to break away? My age broke that dream apart. With only a few more months in this school year, I’d enter my senior year of High School by the end. Things would wonderful then, with the lead up to one of the most vast adventures I could ever experience.
The best time of my life. As I’m told.
Taking another intake of smoke, I stared up at the clouds. I knew it was time for my wings to spread out.
What awaits this bushy-tailed young man that I am? Probably exams, alcohol, women, and whole-lotta no sleep.
Smiling with the clove on the corner of my lips I patted my hands together. The roll of excitement vibrated down my muscles.
“Let’s get started,” I mused.