{"sf1_id":582713,"sf2_id":"bebXDpKn","title":"Life is Heavy","author":"Care A Lot","words":509,"posted_at":"2013-08-28T16:32:00.000Z","tags":["Bird","No-Yiff","Other","Poetry","prose"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/582713-life-is-heavy","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/bebXDpKn","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/70/d3/70d3f015-da7f-4a7e-af5c-105e0872f1dc","description":"More poetry, and prose","content":"I don't know who I am anymore\n\nsaid the sweaty bird\n\nwho could not fly straight for three days straight\n\nand went home with a tummy ache.\n\nTried to say \"Thy will, not mine, be done\"\n\nbut started to see public embarrassment\n\nin his inner eye,\n\nand the voices in his head\n\nsaid the same.\n\nLife is bitter,\n\nwent the drudgeries of the sun,\n\nand it is better to be bitter in the stomach\n\nthan to be pleasant,\n\nfor bitter lasts forever.\n\nPleasance is an illusion.\n\nThe Bible contains many bitter truths,\n\nsuch as that all is vanity.\n\nAyuh, all is vanity, and so, what does it matter, if I choose a bitter tummy?\u0026nbsp; Perhaps better.\u0026nbsp; Perhaps pain is freedom, according to Ecclesiastes.\u0026nbsp;\n\nThe world spins endless,\n\nand individuals continue to complain.\n\nThe same food is eaten,\n\nthe same drink is drunk.\n\nThe one new thing every day, the really new thing, is death of a different individual.\n\nA fresh death.\n\nAnd, what is death, after all, but time travel, perhaps, for does not the soul go somewhere, and when someone else dies, that soul may go after it?\n\nWhat is so super about life?\u0026nbsp; The bitter bird rocked back, and forth, cawing, and scratching its throat, mewling in anger at the ridiculous notions that creatures say \"Same old, same old.\"\u0026nbsp; Then, if it is \"same old, same old\" to you, then why live?\u0026nbsp; Why not die, and let the rest of creation find a new way?\u0026nbsp;\n\nA fresh life?\n\nThere is no life without risk, says the bitter bird, but, who listens.\n\nThe bitter bird prefers dusty corner with ancient poetry, containing odd ruins that no one, not even she, understands.\u0026nbsp; And, why is it necessary to?\u0026nbsp; The heat from the strokes is enough to feel something, something.\u0026nbsp; Something that money cannot understand, governments cannot govern, Gods cannot control, and emotions cannot manipulate.\n\nPower is wrapping oneself in steel wool, and having the ability to seize courage, and triumph, at one's own will whenever, no matter what weakness is at hand.\n\nGod wants me to die today, in the heat, in this blasted, goddamned humidity.\u0026nbsp;\n\nMaybe Satan too.\n\nMan, for sure.\u0026nbsp; Even when the public is not scoffing at me, they are, and it is not fair, because I just want to be left in solitude, away, my thoughts, and plans, have nothing to do with you.\u0026nbsp; Cast pearls before swine, I always say.\u0026nbsp;\n\nThey say to have faith.\u0026nbsp; For what?\u0026nbsp; More control?\u0026nbsp; More rules?\u0026nbsp; More discipline?\u0026nbsp; More slavery?\u0026nbsp; More emotional vulnerability?\u0026nbsp; Yes, yes, I whine, yes, yes, I know.\u0026nbsp; But you whine, too, so point not your finger lest you do not.\n\nThe end of the line may say that death is life, and life is death, an unshakeable cycle.\u0026nbsp; There are no needs to explain, for I have already.\u0026nbsp; Yet, with the iPhone, and xBox, ah, well, life is complete, no?\u0026nbsp;\n\nI think I'll chill in this room a bit longer.\u0026nbsp; It's just nice to have the courage to share.\u0026nbsp;\n\nThis is life, killing my fear.\n\n  \n  \n\n"}