There lay below me a blanket white as a sheet. Every second passing by brings me closer to the blank whiteness. A world painted white, with all its ugliness hiding underneath. The sadness of leaving my airy, wispy palace made entirely of ice crystals born down on me the closer I got to tumbling down on the eager whiteness.
Plink! With a thud that surprisingly no one seemed to have heard, I fell. All six of my arms embraced my long-gone friends whom I shared the same destiny of falling with, I had become a part of the blanket. Beneath me, I could feel the filthy, naked brown dirt my beauty luckily covered. I wondered how this place would be bearable once I and my friends left.
Ouch! As if one had taken offense to what I said, at that spur of the moment something stepped on my elegant but fragile arms. Without even getting a chance to recover from the last one, another stroke hit my head. And another. And another. It didn’t take much time to realize that the ugly things pressing down on me were the feet of those creatures that seemed to dominate the place. I looked around. Children playing with their friends, a man drinking beer at a bar, and two women sipping their hot chocolates as they walk by in a rush.
Everyone seemed so busy. They were so busy that they never realized nor appreciated the white blanket we’ve created with our own arms and legs, covering the ugly truth underneath. No wonder why the earth is in such bad shape, I say to myself. If these people can’t even take a step back and look at how magical everything looks today, why would they bother to care about it on a regular day?
That’s what I’ve been observing about these creatures that call themselves humans. Yes, humans. I am pretty sure it's what they call themselves. I heard this word from someone passing by. The thing with them is they are always in a rush. I came down to earth for just a couple of days. So far, I’ve been kicked, stepped on, and crushed by cars millions of times. The thing is, these people are always running somewhere. “I am late for school”, “I have to catch the bus”, “I have an appointment in an hour”. Does human rush ever end? No wonder why they look so ignorant, of the blanket of beauty lying beneath them. The worst thing is they never look happy either. As everyone is running around, talking hastily, trying to race with the pace of the time, I hear their never-ending complaints about the rush. Why would one continue living in such a haste if it doesn’t make them happy? Why not notice the little things in life, and be happy, for once?
The way I was ignored and stepped on during my mission of concealing the brown dull world taught me many things. Humans are grotesque. How could one not look down at me once, and tell me how beautiful I am? How could one never notice me? How could one bear living a life in a stampede, in a permanent rush? The more the questions come alive in my head, the more I feel levitated and liquefied. I feel the hot glowing ball of cruelty and fame getting closer to me, nauseating me every second. Finally, I find myself up in my palace again. I look down. This time my white blanket view seems to be replaced by gardens of colorful flowers.
What is still the same is the two-legged creatures still racing with each other, with the clocks on gray walls, with themselves, with their lives; for what reason, is the question I never come to understand. This time they are stomping on flowers instead of my white, fragile arms, only with lighter clothes, though with the same bodies and same sights. See you next year, humans. I hope the rush ends by then. Although I know it never will.