The Pain of Comprehension

Cruel Winter.

Understanding is limited among us. We rarely understand ourselves, and only realize the cruel truth at the last moment. There are times in this life of mine that I wish I was merely a fool, one that could only do so much with the limited intelligence that I have, living in peaceful, ignorant bliss. People today tend to look down on them, you know? The fools. The ne’er-do-wells. The idiots. The special. But I wish I was like them, just for a minute - so that I could forget the terrifying comprehension that I have of this world. There’d be no guarantee the world would seem any better even if I changed myself to such a degree - but it’s gotta be worth a shot, right? I’d do anything for just a chance to look back at the world through rose-colored panes, highlighting the beauty of it all. Now, the panes are dirtied, blackened, by pain, grief, anger. I have no solution to clean it with - so it lays there, festering, bacteria growing, condensation forming. I ask you - did the state of nature ever think to change throughout it all? When I saw the world as black as it truly was, did nature turn into winter, become arid, a wasteland - a mere shadow of what it was formerly? Or did it continue, unabashed, uncaring of man’s mental fortitude. Did it continue onwards, uncaring for a mere mortal’s thoughts and excitements, prospects about the future. Is our environment what we make of it, or something apart from us entirely? I do not know. All I can tell you is that today, the winter storm has officially  engulfed me. I am trapped in a snowdrift, several meters below ground - the only sunlight comes from the cruel reflections of the ice that encase me. ALl I can think about is my past - the mistakes I’ve made - the things I’d have begged myself not to do then. But no matter the heated remarks, the fiery, burning insults I throw at myself - my environment remains unchanged. Cruel nature, it bites at me with cold, sharp teeth regardless. 

I would rather freeze than feel the pain of comprehension. And yet, the small, diminishing spark that resides deep in my soul believes in the coming of fall. And comprehension is the only reason I know that.