Narative Expression part 1 by Jonathan Morrison

A new relationship, that’s what it always seems to be about, some form of new relationship. Not the kind where a new person is met and a new relationship created but the kind where old relationships are made new. Everyone wants a chance to form a new one, all the ugly words, backstabbing and betrayal made right and new.

I dated this girl once, who I was totally in love with and she was my half world. I can’t say she was my world because in the end we ended and that’s not the signature of someone whose world revolves around someone else. I want a chance to say something, to go back and take back the arguing the fighting, but it wont happen. I mean I can go and apologize for the things I had said and done and she can do likewise but that does not recreate the relationship its kind of a whiteout that covers the bad words and ugly actions of the story, but if you were to pick at the whiteout then there underneath would be the ugly rhetoric of the story, a story cloned from another story cloned from another story.

And that’s the thing, the truth remains the same, and the relationship will never be the same it will always be compromised, changed, and mutated. No rewriting whiteout exists not for a page or reality.

The past regret is a fire, its overtaken everything engulfed the forest of existence and charred everything. It’s like Yellowstone, when Yellowstone was aflame everything was destroyed, and now people go back and act like it was never there. But it was. And its obvious, rocks and mountains are charred and maybe the greenery grew back but the consequences are still evident flames touched the mountains and their mark will never be removed. The fire of the past is the same, relationships are charred, but the difference between us and Yellowstone is that we melt and mutate. We aren’t gold or diamonds that are refined in fire we are flesh and blood even in our mind and where fire hits and flames arise flesh melts it mutates, and now from the fire emerges not a phoenix but a monster of sorts, a charred mutated you and I that when looked at through the mirror of our eyes will never look the same.

We have all come to live with the monsters though, because no one has ever escaped the flames of the past and all of us now live burned and charred. And we look out over the living corpses in the earth we see people; rude, naïve, compassionate, angry people whatever we see, we see something that looks like us and that’s what we live with. We have never seen anything else, charred mutation is what we know its what we accept its what we like, but is there more? How would we know? Would we see someone not charred as charred because of the perfection of their emotional flesh? Someone who has never regretted or needed the rewriting whiteout, would it be like seeing an alien?

All of this began long ago though; our own ugly stories are just filled verbatim with the same old rhetoric of a past relationship. It all began when someone flicked the cigarette into the brush or got drunk and lit off a bunch of fireworks in the emotional national park of our beginning, then the flames came. The park was burnt and sealed for remodeling and the drunks, who set the thing aflame kicked out, removed, and banned from entering ever again. But in this instance the drunks didn’t just escape with a mass of fines for burning down the original national park, they themselves were caught in the fire, pulled out and bandaged by a rescue crew but never the same the fire was to intense. Now they live with the original insecurities of the burns, they haven’t always been mutated but now when seeing themselves in each others eyes it is evident something changed. The beauty and perfection that defined their relationships in the beginning is gone burnt to a crisp back in the park.

“Adam,” she says “do you still love me?” Tears rolling down the grimacing face overwhelmed by the experience of this mutation.

We all wait hoping the characters will overcome the conflict now thrust into their lives, the fact they were drunk lighting off fireworks in a national parks means nothing now, all we hope is that these two can overcome. The story doesn’t end though it keeps being written and now unfolds in our lives; those of us born mutated and forever charred never knowing perfect, living with the consequence everyday.

The effects are devastating and inescapable. Its evident if your watching, you don’t need to be vigilant just human. We fight a war whether for freedom, nuclear weapons, or oil its all consequence of mutation. Humanity has fallen, has burnt up all the truth and what we experience today is the aftermath.