.

Gillian

Writer, Ghostwriter, Copywriter

Fullerton , United States

When I was 10, I wrote my first story. It’s a vague memory, but I’m certain it had a princess, an evil witch and a rabbit woven somewhere into the storyline. It seems my quite stereotypical rendition of Rapunzel served some kind of purpose, as it encouraged an unrelenting passion for creating. Years later, I've dedicated my life to writing and giving a written voice to the thoughts and ideas in other people's heads. We all have so much to say - not all of us know how to, well, say it. I am an author, ghostwriter, copywriter and hope to be an avid traveler one day!

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A Life Well Lived and a Day Well Done

Jul 11, 2020 10 months ago

I can't say I was envious of the man that sat so eloquently before me – who smiled and chitted at a woman beyond me. Nor was I spiteful toward the dubious child that would grow into certain knowledge eventually. No, it wasn't that at all but that of a hornet perched on that hand carved vase - slipping its slender feelers through the cracks and flitting its wings ever so slightly. It's a wonder, you see – in its own world of silence. Unconcerned of what this or that could mean or how he or she felt this morning. It didn't know the lot of us and I'd think it fair to say that it didn't care to. The feeling was mutual at the moment – hardly noticed by those at the table. Though once seen, it's certain that man would jump from his seat. You see, if you stayed still – and I do mean ever so still – they'd likely carry on. But, instead, you'll swat and cry – perhaps from fear – perhaps from anger that it's even there. A reaction they wouldn't have at the sight of you. But it's that of a bother. It's a hated being, but accepts your perception and leaves at ease. Not till you provoke the small being does it latch and lash your skin. See – I wish I could be that small – only defensive when my life is at stake. Unknown to the idea of the great unknown. Satisfied with a life of living – one that's beyond desires of my own. But, instead, you see – I'm envious. Envious with knowledge and a simple truth: I could never sit so still, quiet and listen. I could never be blessed with the ears of a hornet, a rabbit or a bird; whose identity is none but that of a hornet, a rabbit or a bird. No. I'll likely understand my part in the death of Ms. Nature. I'll likely notice and rage at your suffering – yes, quite rightly –but it'll dim before I could do a thing. I'll likely want more than I need and scream when that man has more than me. I'll likely know all about it. And I'll likely lie to ease the aches of guilt in me. I'd admit there's one thing that hornet does desire – a life well lived and a day well done. However, so simple. Quite a wonder doing that – I wonder how that'd be. You say – I want a life too! Ah, but what does that mean? For you or for me? It's beyond survival now, isn't it? You want more than what you need. You're defending it now, aren't you? You have the ability to do that – a pity, isn't it? Yes, we can lie to ourselves just as to others. We know it – and that's what I see! That's what we all see, but do we do anything? I'm envious of that hornet – it can't do all that. It doesn't bare the weight of that responsibility. And look at me! Envious of a hornet – you'd think it insane! But he doesn't know what that means. Yes, I'd rather be as that. I wonder if it'd be me? My curiosities grew (another burden I reckon) with the table's incessant chit-chat. It rattled and sharpened as the hornet's presence grew greater yet quieter. It stayed unnoticed until the man before me stuttered his speech, gargled and heaved. He grabbed his napkin and aimed to crush it, swat it, simply be rid of it. Almost as if he knew his impending fate, the hornet rumbled and took to the sky – carrying my thoughts on its frail wings. The man sighed, readjusted and continued his conversation without another thought. And I wonder, if re-joining the chattering would make me forget too. It's a wonder we can do that.

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