This post was originally written on February 15, 2013.
Standing on the rooftop of his Brooklyn apartment building, Trevor felt the stars. He couldn't see them, but now more than ever, he felt their presence. Staring out at the city, he could barely see the downtown skyline over the other apartment buildings, but it was there, bright like the stars above, so bright that it outshone even them. The streets below weren't moving much, but a laundry line strung from the balcony of one building to the chimney of another reminded him that the city was full of people, all with their own stories and their own lives. He suddenly felt very small, but not frighteningly so. He felt strangely at peace, as he stood there, and felt the world turning around him as he appreciated the grandeur of the universe.
Trevor stood transfixed on that rooftop for so long that he had forgotten why he'd come, and hours passed by the time he even considered going back inside. It seemed a waste to return to his room on such a night. What would he do, play a video game? Jack off? Check Facebook? It all seemed so mundane. The world was constantly changing, but here he was, doing the same thing every night, only to wake up to go to work the next day, day in and day out. It was like he was an island in a sea of motion, unmoving as everything around him swirled and changed.
It was while he stood there, unwilling to return to his life, when one area of the sky seemed to call to him more than the others. It was a place with no particular significance, almost but not quite opposite the waxing moon. Why he felt drawn to it, he couldn't say, but it gave him an idea of how to spend the evening. He would drive off in that direction, completely letting his whims and fancy dictate where he'd go next. He'd be a leaf on the wind.
Before he knew it, he was walking downstairs, stopping in his room to pick up his jacket and keys. His room felt like another world, one that he was familiar with but had left behind, like the memories of his childhood home. As he walked through it to reach his keys, he felt like a ghost passing through the earthly realm, temporarily out of place, unnatural. Then it was over, and he was in his car, streetlights passing by overhead as it carried him off.
He barely noticed merging onto the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway from the Prospect Expressway; the words on the street signs meant nothing to him, and he took exits solely based on how much they appealed to him. Before he knew it, he was passing through a tunnel, the orange lights rapidly flitting over him, creating an otherworldly air. When he passed over a huge bridge, which he would have recognized as the George Washington Bridge if he had been paying attention to such things, he truly felt like the city was behind him. The farther that he was carried from the city, the less city-like his surroundings became. The traffic became less congested, the buildings farther apart, and he eventually found himself traveling down a nearly empty highway.
Finally away from the lights and the sounds, he felt like he had when he was standing atop his apartment building. He was at peace, in an almost meditative state, and the quiet thrum of his wheels on the asphalt and the occasional soft sound of passing cars soothed him. He felt like he had become part of something bigger. He had left the island that he'd been stuck on, braving the dangerous waters of uncertainty on a raft of his own making. He had a sail, but could not dictate which way the wind blew, and went wherever it took him. The farther he was blown away, the less likely he was to return.
When his ride came to an end, Trevor found himself in a parked car in a small, gravelly parking lot in the middle of a wooded area. He got out of his car and looked up at the stars. He could see them now, and there were more than he had ever seen before. He found the star that he had felt on his Brooklyn rooftop, and saw that it was shining brightly. The moon had moved, and was closer to his star, but even the close light of the moon couldn't drown out his star's brightness. He walked toward it, where a path led him into the woods, past a sign that he did not read that said "Sundown Wild Forest". When the path changed course, he followed his star through the brush, blindly stepping over roots in the dark.
Eventually, Trevor came upon a tree. It wasn't a particularly significant tree; it wasn't the largest and it wasn't the most beautiful, and it didn't stand alone in the middle of a clearing. It was just an ordinary tree, but Trevor knew that it was his tree. This was what the star had led him towards. The moonlight shone through the dark leaves, and dappled the trunk. Trevor approached the tree slowly, as if in a trance, fixated on one spot of light on the tree's trunk. Step by step he made his way closer, and when he was finally close enough to the tree to touch it, his body didn't block the spot of light that had transfixed him. He stepped even closer, and lifted his hand to the spot. He felt the roughness of the bark on his fingertips, and lightly traced its odd patterns.
For a long time, he stood there, his fingertips lightly resting on that one spot, feeling at one with the world. The tree and its rough, flaky bark occupied all of his thought, and it was only when the sun rose that he realized something had changed in the world around him. It was warm, even though it had been a chilly autumn night, and the sky was blue, even though it was still dawn. He looked around, and everything had changed, except for the tree. He spun around, gaping at his surroundings, and he immediately heard the surprised rustling of a small animal running away. He didn't catch a good glimpse of it, but it was probably a rodent, though it was maroon and didn't look like anything that he had seen before. The animals were strange and the trees were strange and the whole forest was strange, except for his tree. His tree was the only thing left from his old world that he could hold on to, the only thing that made sense in this sea of unfamiliarity.
Trevor walked away, not sure if he would ever be able to find his tree again.
Standing on the rooftop of his Brooklyn apartment building, Trevor felt the stars. He couldn't see them, but now more than ever, he felt their presence. Staring out at the city, he could barely see the downtown skyline over the other apartment buildings, but it was there, bright like the stars above, so bright that it outshone even them. The streets below weren't moving much, but a laundry line strung from the balcony of one building to the chimney of another reminded him that the city was full of people, all with their own stories and their own lives. He suddenly felt very small, but not frighteningly so. He felt strangely at peace, as he stood there, and felt the world turning around him as he appreciated the grandeur of the universe.
Trevor stood transfixed on that rooftop for so long that he had forgotten why he'd come, and hours passed by the time he even considered going back inside. It seemed a waste to return to his room on such a night. What would he do, play a video game? Jack off? Check Facebook? It all seemed so mundane. The world was constantly changing, but here he was, doing the same thing every night, only to wake up to go to work the next day, day in and day out. It was like he was an island in a sea of motion, unmoving as everything around him swirled and changed.
It was while he stood there, unwilling to return to his life, when one area of the sky seemed to call to him more than the others. It was a place with no particular significance, almost but not quite opposite the waxing moon. Why he felt drawn to it, he couldn't say, but it gave him an idea of how to spend the evening. He would drive off in that direction, completely letting his whims and fancy dictate where he'd go next. He'd be a leaf on the wind.
Before he knew it, he was walking downstairs, stopping in his room to pick up his jacket and keys. His room felt like another world, one that he was familiar with but had left behind, like the memories of his childhood home. As he walked through it to reach his keys, he felt like a ghost passing through the earthly realm, temporarily out of place, unnatural. Then it was over, and he was in his car, streetlights passing by overhead as it carried him off.
He barely noticed merging onto the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway from the Prospect Expressway; the words on the street signs meant nothing to him, and he took exits solely based on how much they appealed to him. Before he knew it, he was passing through a tunnel, the orange lights rapidly flitting over him, creating an otherworldly air. When he passed over a huge bridge, which he would have recognized as the George Washington Bridge if he had been paying attention to such things, he truly felt like the city was behind him. The farther that he was carried from the city, the less city-like his surroundings became. The traffic became less congested, the buildings farther apart, and he eventually found himself traveling down a nearly empty highway.
Finally away from the lights and the sounds, he felt like he had when he was standing atop his apartment building. He was at peace, in an almost meditative state, and the quiet thrum of his wheels on the asphalt and the occasional soft sound of passing cars soothed him. He felt like he had become part of something bigger. He had left the island that he'd been stuck on, braving the dangerous waters of uncertainty on a raft of his own making. He had a sail, but could not dictate which way the wind blew, and went wherever it took him. The farther he was blown away, the less likely he was to return.
When his ride came to an end, Trevor found himself in a parked car in a small, gravelly parking lot in the middle of a wooded area. He got out of his car and looked up at the stars. He could see them now, and there were more than he had ever seen before. He found the star that he had felt on his Brooklyn rooftop, and saw that it was shining brightly. The moon had moved, and was closer to his star, but even the close light of the moon couldn't drown out his star's brightness. He walked toward it, where a path led him into the woods, past a sign that he did not read that said "Sundown Wild Forest". When the path changed course, he followed his star through the brush, blindly stepping over roots in the dark.
Eventually, Trevor came upon a tree. It wasn't a particularly significant tree; it wasn't the largest and it wasn't the most beautiful, and it didn't stand alone in the middle of a clearing. It was just an ordinary tree, but Trevor knew that it was his tree. This was what the star had led him towards. The moonlight shone through the dark leaves, and dappled the trunk. Trevor approached the tree slowly, as if in a trance, fixated on one spot of light on the tree's trunk. Step by step he made his way closer, and when he was finally close enough to the tree to touch it, his body didn't block the spot of light that had transfixed him. He stepped even closer, and lifted his hand to the spot. He felt the roughness of the bark on his fingertips, and lightly traced its odd patterns.
For a long time, he stood there, his fingertips lightly resting on that one spot, feeling at one with the world. The tree and its rough, flaky bark occupied all of his thought, and it was only when the sun rose that he realized something had changed in the world around him. It was warm, even though it had been a chilly autumn night, and the sky was blue, even though it was still dawn. He looked around, and everything had changed, except for the tree. He spun around, gaping at his surroundings, and he immediately heard the surprised rustling of a small animal running away. He didn't catch a good glimpse of it, but it was probably a rodent, though it was maroon and didn't look like anything that he had seen before. The animals were strange and the trees were strange and the whole forest was strange, except for his tree. His tree was the only thing left from his old world that he could hold on to, the only thing that made sense in this sea of unfamiliarity.
Trevor walked away, not sure if he would ever be able to find his tree again.
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