The Tree Taker

Welcome back to my blog! So, here I was, at the theater, trying to do algebra and stealing copious amounts of over salted popcorn, when I thought that my time would so much better be spent writing a bitter story about a boy that I used to know. When we were children, I always felt like he was someone to be treasured, that I was just a girl and he was a talent. He had this power in him that I never could be able to mimic . And it wasn’t until he left that I accepted that he wasn’t who I thought he was and that he left nothing but scars. This post is a mix of a short story and a poem. I wrote it in an hour or so,  it’s not that impressive, but I still wanted to share it. Thanks for reading and have a wonderfully relaxed Sunday. 


Maybe you can’t see me. You’ve been blinded by the shiny spotlight that’s been so comfortably placed above your head all your life. The spotlight’s shining, your shining, and all of your adoring fans are standing by, waiting. They wait and they wait. Some want you to love them, befriend them, stand beside them. They stare and they watch, waiting. You don’t see them of course, you’re far above having something so trivial as fans. You’re so important, always on the move, smiling perfectly ready for pictures. You’re always ready for pictures, because the light is always perfect.

You’re always perfect. Or at least that’s what you lead me to believe.

Then again, that’s what we all believed. You never gave us a reason to doubt it. Every girl wanted to be with you, and every boy wanted to be you. Even all the mirrors wanted to hold your reflection, because you’re just so beautiful. On the outside, your teeth are flawless, your hair is in place, and you walk through these hallowed halls like a gust of wind moves through trees. You never stop, or look around, or move in an odd way. You never stay, you don’t have time. Probably on your way to a very critical date which you simply can’t miss.

Your wind keeps building, because as you move through the forest, you steal branches from the trees and many greens from the foliage. You become faster, larger than life, and all the greenery will gladly hand over what they have just to be acknowledged by your godly presence.

You got so big it was hard not to notice you. And I did, notice you. But winds never last, even the most powerful ones. Some other type of weather will eventually compete, and you’ll be gone. Though we don’t forget you, how could we? Someone so amazing as that, we consider ourselves lucky to be surrounded by such greatness.

We love wind, your winds, we need it. We adored and idolized this feeling you gave us, this sense of a special person who manipulated the world so that it would bend to be his own.

So when the wind ran through the forest, and all the trees were left bare, we were broken. We were all miserable without you.

But then the weather changed.

It was sunny and simple.

And it was then that we realized how much the flurry of your winds burned our skins, and left our scarves lost and scattered across the ground.

We couldn’t remember or focus on a moment because you destroyed our minds. What was real wasn’t as promising as the illusion that someday, somehow, you would want to stay. That one of the simple bare trees had a quality to offer you that would make you pause for a second and keep the forest roaring with breeze.

Though when the sun rose, and the air was still, we pictured who you really were, instead of the ideal memories that flickered through our eyes.

You weren’t gentle. You were terribly unkind.

You flew above all your friends, and left the weak behind.

You never used all that power for anything but pain.

You thought that you can lead us all and that we would worship at your feet because you tricked us and you lied, all to keep up the shallow charade of who we wanted to see.

Because we were all average, and were searching to be wanted and to feel like we had color in our dull and falling leaves.

But you took the same thing from all of us, and then left without a glance.

How foolish we were to think that we ever stood a chance.

You were violent and impulsive and treated us all like your servants.

But we still obliged, grateful to be used at your service.

When I think of you, I often wonder where you are now. Are you still ruining all the life in a less than average town?

Did you find something that made it worth your time to stay?

Or did you just keep on taking until you got your way?

Keep in mind, you held us all in your palm. Did you ever know how much you meant to everyone who you mindlessly passed? Did you ever stop and wonder about the countless trees you’ve killed? Did they cross your mind? If not, you’re so damn lucky, because for them, they can’t forget or fill their heads with someone new. Because the sun is fond and friendly, but it’s nothing compared to you.



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