Sitting patiently in the waiting room of the hospital I observe the little old ladies and men as they cackle, snore and cough. I hate hospitals. It really bothers me that we will all eventually fall apart and not be able to take care of our selves. Really, all this time spent to reflect and return to our childhood, only to be more difficult due to size. The diapers get bigger as the skin begins to sag and the mind begins to forget all the good times you put all your heart into. What is the reasoning behind this? It almost seems unreasonable. People go everyday with the thought that the moment that they live in is the only moment available. But as i sit here in my boredom and think, there are a million others out there doing the same process, just different outcomes. Every idea different. All these little thoughts processed and to only be waisted away in wrinkly mass of death. I believe that my soul will be sent to God when i die. I just don't understand all this around me. Where did it all come from. OR is the purpose of all this to just have no purpose. All this time wasted on wondering is a filler for the fact that there is nothing there to worry about. we live, we die, walla. WE are a disease almost. we eat up every natural resource out there, even the ones we personally do not need. We are a spot on the lung of mother nature. I was observing the pictures of the Hubble telescope, fantastic, really makes you think about how small we really are. Are we an explosion of gas contained and framed by our inner gravitational pull? I am sooooo confused.
The walls in the hospital are covered with still framed canvas printed memories. Memories of maybe adventures or back yard views. They are covered with Butterfly topped flowers, exotic birds and labored sunsets. Mosaic art, obviously from an impressionist vision. All this creativity to sit and be viewed and be forgotten. I feel alone when i stare at these pictures. I try to think how I wish that I could be these photos. Never aging; stuck in a moment of beauty for all eternity. Someone strolling can stop and glance and when they look in my still permanent staring eyes and can see a history, and/ or make there own for me. But, my soul will be encapsulated in that stare, starring back. Hoping for them to take a picture of the picture and pass it on to be sent through time as a passer-by's thoughts. Now that would be the way to travel.
The carpet of the hospital reminds me of a cheap hotel in Puerto Rico. I can see Hunter S. Thompson in the front desk area checking in. The bamboo leaf silhouettes surrounded by the different shades of beige greens mix well to give you that in land beach scene feel. i bet there are mites in it. I bet they live there, sipping there toe skin cocktails and forging little facilities for there non structural being? what am i talking about.
We chose the kids section to sit in. We have our own TV and our own little section. no kids yet, thank God. don't think i could handle that right now, the hospital has taken over my mental and i think i might need to go drink some hand sanitizer i am getting lost.