~I’ve never liked hospital beds, especially with people on them; sick people. Whenever I’d walk into a hospital room, I’d feel the shift in air like I had just walked into a different reality than the one outside the door. I’d always found myself meek and somewhat mute around the person lying in a hospital bed. It’s like I’m watching myself lying in that bed, unable to do anything, not even so much as speak something.
These people, these timid, pitiful humans only reflect weakness. Often they’d refuse to eat anything when asked to. You could beg them or cry as much as you want but they’d never take anything more than a bite or two of that apple you peeled and sliced so carefully. It’s almost like they have given up on anything worldly. They would hardly talk, only one syllable at a time which is only audible when you put your ear close to their flimsy moving lips.
The only thing you ever feel around them is a certain kind of weakness. I know that weakness. I feel it on some days. Or sometimes countless days in a row. Ofcourse I don’t have needles sticking out of my hands, nor the intravenous drips or the clean white bedsheet laid out perfectly on the bed I lie upon, but I do lie in the bed, unmoving for hours, refusing my appetite a right to eat, forcing my eyes to stare at the ceiling without blinking or ignoring my nerves to lift my hands, sluggishly resting beside my limp body like begging for alms.
I’d feel no desire, nothing worldly at least. I’d feel no colours or the dying rays of the sunlight forcing it’s way in through the window or the squeaks of robins flying right outside.
They call me sick too, even when I’m not on a hospital bed.
If I could go back to the time before universe was created I’m sure I could get an idea about this feeling. The fact that universe once itself was empty is proof enough of my existence at this moment.
Maybe what we call weakness is the absence of feelings portending.
We’re timid, imperfect humans, possibly living just about the edge of the universe, trying to figure out something that’s not even there yet. We’re waiting for a feeling we don’t know about.
They call it evolution. I call it you~