Falling into…

They say there are five stages of grief.

Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. And Acceptance. 

They are wrong. There is one true stage, Denial. I am relentlessly in denial about the now, the never, the was. About this moment where I read before you.

I hate to admit it but I simply cannot be still in the now. My small mind has set itself to think that the world was conceived in the spring. My dreams play scenes of Adam and Eve lingering in the Garden after the flowers have already bloomed. The skin on their bare bodies untouched by consciousness perspire once the sun hits them. Summer fell into fall. Fall fell into winter. Winter fell into… well the winter didn’t fall for quite a long time. That’s besides the point though. 

The point is the intensity in which I question the now. I can only bring myself to enjoy the mostly depressive winters when I see flakes of snow suddenly appear into thin air. Only then can I run out into the sea of white and claim an untouched spot on the once green grass marking my territory through the silhouette of my body. I can laugh while I throw compacted balls of snow at my temporary enemy. Only then can I sit in the happiness of the moment. My hands will burn from the cold, they will turn to the colors of purgatory, my body will shiver, I will be stuck with a lingering illness. Then I can think about the warmth my body once absorbed. I can wish to bask in the sun once again on a picturesque landscape. Only once I obtain the sensation I yearn for will I enter a new denial. 

I deny the now.

I deny the never.

I deny the was. 

I deny the moment I live through in front of you.