THE LITTLE MAN IN THE BIG TREE v2

The naked little man that ran up the big tree

They say, don't they that you should never talk to strangers. 'They' often being your teacher or your parent. There's nothing like a meddling parent or an over attentive teacher to keep you in your own box. Really, what's the worst thing that can happen? You might actually learn something worthwhile. Something that's not mundane. Is that worth being afraid of? Really, is it? don't think I can't hear you calling me naive and know not about the world. I'm nineteen.

I'm 19 and live with my mum whose a schizophrenic, so I know a heck of lot more then most in 'bred adults, be they parents or worse teachers. But this story isn't about me or my mother being slightly different. I'm different. I'm not white, I'm not middle class and I am definitely not English.
This story is about a day lost in history. A very long time ago, almost three thousandth of a day ago, as I made my way home from school. My head down, depressed.
I look left and look right, in the autumn bloom, so bored by life, so bored that I can't stand it any longer. It was as though I wanted to kill something inside me, because I know it's the reason why I'm depressed. As if it were a physical thing. Which my councillour says is.

In retrospect, to be this depressed at this young an age is really challenging. Because I am at that delicate time in my life when I'm learning the truth behind good and evil. And god... and god it hurts to know how unfair life really is.

So there I am trying to be interested, lifting in vain the eye to which the world looked towards. And I get the sudden urge to get hit by a car. I don't know why...I sit stark still, in the middle of the road awaiting my fate. And I look to my left as a car approached. I could feel it slowing down unfortunately or fortunately in retrospect.

And like every other teenage fancy, I am suddenly not bothered about it any more. Because I see something that I think is very story worthy. A suited man going to his birthday party running shoeless across the concrete road. He was white, bearded, clean, bathed and unhealthy. And he ran straight up a tree.
I tilted my head as I aimed to go closer. Now I was curious and deadly so. It was nothing like I'd ever seen before. Never in a thousand nights could I imagine such a thing. Who see's a little naked man running up a big old tree. Would you not enquire upon the matter? Does that not wake you up? Would you not want to know why it is that such a man in his birthday suit would do such a thing? To see the quirky and unnatural in a setting so normal is to see something that isn't there. I thought as I stepped onto the safety of the pavement¦
But then I thought, I shouldn't be inquisitive. An odd teacher at school used to say the enquiring mind is one so dangerous it can actually realize. If you're waiting for the sentence to finish it doesn't. Or perhaps it does but I don't' realize what it means? So I stepped back and thought what if it were a mentally deranged man not really in control of his fits. So I literally stepped back, my eyes to the ground yet again depressed. Now because of cowardice. And then it hit me. The car I mean.

And on that road as I lay possibly breathing my last, not feeling my legs, I wondered how lucky it was to be that man, not feeling the gush of blood out of my thoracic, free, not feeling my arms and all else beneath my skull, free from absolutely everything. Yet it was I who was the luckier of the two. For I perceived the event as much.