My Time Underneath
The worst thing was the earth.
It was suffocating. The heavy smell of clay and soil mixed with floral hints was too thick to breath.
I tried to filter each breath through my mouth, but the dirt left a grit on my teeth. With the pain burning between my legs and the earth, each inhale was agonizing. If I wasn't already dying the ground sure would do the trick.
I could put myself in a place where the pain didn't exist.
But I still had to breath.
I had no idea when it was day or night.
The earth took care of that too.
So I started to imagine that the roots blooming across the makeshift ceiling were star formations. I took an astronomy course once, and I always loved the way the stars formed something but nothing at all. The roots did the same thing.
The way they twisted and twined through each other. They were like beautiful dancers, but they weren't.
Dancing is probably what got me down there in the first place. That and the man I had danced with. The moment you realize that you've made a mistake is odd. It's like time slows down just enough to show you where it went wrong, but not slow enough for you to do anything about it.
But I guess what's important is I got out.
Usually what's been given to the ground stays in the ground, but I wasn't really anyone's to give.