Telstar is a flower which very few have ever heard of. It is not surprising, even though the flower is stunningly gorgeous. They are actually a type of iris, which is odd, considering that many people have not heard of those either. Makes sense that the unknown flower is related to yet another unknown flower. It makes the most sense, of course. It’s also very sad.
The flower is a deep blue and has a beautiful yellow center that seems to resemble an eye, even if it is not the most beautiful of eyes. I love seeing that a flower has a center in it that looks intriguing. It’s so very wonderful to know that not all flowers are devoid of character.
There are people who always love to stay with the basic flow of things and to not ever stray one bit from what’s accepted. People love to poke fun at this, often telling of how people are held down too much to what is expected of them. And then they go around and do just that.
It could be disappointing if it weren’t hilarious to watch. People love to show how they are so much better than their peers by doing the same things. It’s terrifying to know that these are the future of the world. I would like to know that people are at least better than precedents.
Unfortunately, people love to be mean and they love to pretend to have more knowledge about everything that doesn’t concern them than they truly do. Anything to show off and be greater than the ones beside them. If that’s the goal, then I wish them the best of luck.
I wonder if people know what it’s like to look at them and see that they have changed not one bit even though they believe that they have greatly. I wonder what they think as they stare at themselves in the mirror and think that they have changed when they are so far from it.
There are people who want to change and those who do not. When people cling onto memories for dear life of someone, it may be because that person was such a wonderful tale when around that it is too hard to let go of a beautiful lie. Sometimes, it hurts to let go.
All of the thoughts about become who had come and gone swam through my mind and never stopped bothering me. They actively pursued me now. It was bothersome, to have something that I really didn’t want try and find me. I had let them go, and they had let me go.
It was why I ran to a town where no one would know me. I was hoping to find many new people, all of whom would pay little or no mind to me. It was a long shot, but I willed it to work.
When I was sitting down on the floor and looking at the pieces of paper that were supposed to help me but had only confused me, I thought more and more about the various people who were now at random corners of the earth and making lives of their own. I used to share dreams with these people. They told me of their many plans to see the universe and all about the many travels they would scrapbook and show their children at a later date.
They would be in a foreign land while I was only a block over. I had moved perhaps a couple of miles away and not even that. I was still in my parents’ house and sometimes even that seemed to be too close. It was not supposed to happen this way. I should be going with them.
It frustrated me. I realized that I was next to someone who may have had the answers I longed to get. I may come off as a lunatic, but I may as well use him as a sounding board. Otherwise, there was no point in allowing him to say nothing. He should get an easy out once.
The papers were too still. I ripped them out, one by one. I hoped to get a reaction from him, but he said absolutely nothing to me. He happily remained there. “So, what about this? I can rip out this one, too. I’m sure this art masterpiece would be made better by it. Any thoughts?”
“I think that you’re going about it all wrong,” he said, helping me pull out papers and seemed to be having a lot of fun with it. It bothered me. He shouldn’t be helping me. He should be absolutely appalled by it. He should be trying to stop me. And he’s not. The nerve.
“So then what should I be doing?” I wandered over to another box, but the pieces of paper were still firmly in my hands. I considered doing something more and then decided against it. There was so much more that I could get out of this guy. I may as well wait until the next time before pulling something absolutely crazy like this. It wouldn’t be fair to him at all.
“Have you considered ripping up the papers?” I didn’t see why he would be suggesting that I do what I had been doing. “I don’t mean ripping out them. You’ve seemed to have done that just fine on your own. I mean, rip the papers themselves. Like this.” He tore the paper.
It was odd, to see him doing something like that to something he had attempted so hard to convince me was a masterpiece. “So why only tear it up? It is artwork, after all. Shouldn’t we do something more with it than just tear it to shreds? Why not make something out of it?”
He turned to me for a split second and I thought that he was going to try and talk me out of destroying the irreplaceable works. I hoped he would do that. I was starting to feel awful for breaking into someone’s room and then ruining everything that I found here. Shame on me.
His mouth opened and I felt that he was going to begin his grand speech by telling me that I was unkind and uncaring and how dare I think I can do this. I was waiting for him to tell me off and tell me how I should not think I am good enough to do this. I was waiting for him to show that he cared a lot about all of this. I was waiting for something to start. I hoped that we would get into a fight and then I could figure out what it was like. It felt really strange to want a fight with a stranger. I had never had a fight with a stranger before. What was it like?
I thought he was going to say something, and then he didn’t. I heard a breath leave from his mouth but that was all that happened. There had to be something more. He had to say something to me. It wouldn’t be right if he said absolutely nothing to me, it would be rude.
“I agree.” Well, at least it was an answer, even if it was nothing near the answer I desired to obtain from him. “I think we should create art from the art we stumbled upon. There would be no use in destroying such wonderful pieces if we didn’t at least pretend we had noble intentions.”
I was relieved that he was not as happy to do this as I thought he was. “So, tell me, what exactly qualifies as ‘noble intentions’? I’m sure there must be something that doesn’t constitute as noble or its opposite.” It would be something wonderful, I’m sure, to hear his response.
“Anything noble in thought counts as noble in intention. If we want to make art out of it, then it doesn’t seem thoughtless. If it’s anything that could come across as wrong, then there’s no chance that it could become noble. We want noble and then some ways that could seem as even more than noble. We want to go all out, don’t we?” he asked me as his eyes shone.
I hated that he knew the right words to say to me. I had only wanted for him to not think of this as a fun game. And, there he was, telling me how this was nothing but fun and games to him. I hated that he made me want to join in. I hated that he made this fun for me.
He was going ahead and placing everything he tore apart in stacks on the floor. He may have been willing to tear everything, but he was organized. I couldn’t help but watch him as he made sure that everything fit perfectly together. It was not all that interesting, but I still watched.
“Is this interesting for you?” He sounded surprised, but nothing more than that. He was not mad or fuming at me. He just sounded taken aback. It was nothing more than shock.
“I guess so. I’ve just never seen anyone take such care in placing down everything he just destroyed into neat little piles. I like that you continue to be detailed, even now.”
“I’m glad that someone appreciates my detail. It just seems to bother everyone else in my life. They are there, being disorganized and rambunctious, and I’m the crazy one.”
“Well, you’re just different. They’re jealous of you, that’s all.” I looked at him and smiled, noticing that he was checking each stack as though he had made a mistake somewhere along the way. I doubted that he had. But to each his own. His happened to be perfection.