Jumping Trees: The Proximal Pursuit of Happiness 1227

I step up.
It is my first step in admitting my false betrayals of the hunters; I have done them wrong with my words irreverently tattooed upon the only image I, to this point, have presented of who and what they are to us, the hunted, and you, whomever it is you are, as you sit, poised properly, from your cloud of decision, delegate your mannerism through your silence, and view the actions taking place here on this island without so much as a word I can physically see written from your hand or spoken from your mouth; you are a puppeteer and these b******s are your puppets.

Now I breathe; slowly, deeply.
I do not mean to fog your viewing glass. I keep my head down in your presence and your presence only and because you are everywhere I am I cannot keep myself from the ground. It is not a sign of disrespect of myself or what I stand for. My actions are not out of my disbelief in you, because then this, this this of who it is I am, would be a foolish contradiction of my free spirit and the lives of every single soul I have saved will be meaningless. My actions are borne from the fear of what they have made you; I am your eternal slave for reasons I will never be able to abandon.

I tighten the rope.
I have come to a point now, here in the midst of my own evil, where my life is set before me. What have I had? What have I seen? Who have I betrayed and where is she? This is what I was given; freewill. To do as I please, when I please with impressionist morals and mine own worn on the outermost tips of my fingers; and indeed I have done just that. I have reviewed the world’s rejected calmly; gave them shelter; protected them from the self righteous heretics (a term I use incorrectly for a sense of enlightenment to come over me now to possibly redirect what I have begun) who have segregated the world I was forced into creating, by sex, greed, and strength. Is it fair of me to have this moment of reflection at such a time? Will my last word be read as my first? Will any of this please you, fix you? Will you come with me when you finally awake and find me here? Will you escape this island?

It is my time now. I look up. Your face is not how I imagined it.
I write these last words in a mind not ready for what I have in store for it. A gun would have indeed required fewer steps but caused a bigger mess for the cleaner upper or maybe a good feast for the dogs. These words are not molding themselves appropriately perhaps it is my lack of craftsmanship; I am ashamed of my failures here. But one thing is certain, if I had the strength and courage to find you, my love, I would tell you without a doubt; creativity does not accompany hardship, it is a gift.

My final thoughts concerning the nature of humanity are inconsistent with what I have allowed myself to experience; I will not leave here with the mark of a hypocrite. All that is left is my legacy and all that comes forth will bathe in it. It is time I end this airless compilation with a push of this poised platform

and fall into what has become me.

 

 

Author's Note

all ideas welcome

Reviews

[Liz Smith]

"Will my last word be read as my first?"

I really enjoyed that line. You really got into your character and I think that is important in every writer. I couldn't seperate one from the other and I think that's what we should all strive for.
The syntax was also done really well. I like how it flowed and then halted at the beginning of every snip of reflection.

The ending was really good and the only thing I can say I would've done differently is the last line (I love the whole bit about "falling into what has become me" considering it reverts back to the beginning, giving it closure.)
But for rhythm purposes, so that's it more cohesive with the rest, I think it should be a short sentence.
Maybe break it up?
like...
I push the poised platform from underneath me. (maybe this could even go into the previous paragraph)
Falling into what has become me.

But just a thought. I really loved this. Completely and truely.