Wolfsbane and Wallflowers

Episode 1 The moon consumed the velvety black of the night sky. It would only be natural that my story would begin with the moon. Surely, it would end with the moon as well. I was not graced with a sunshine disposition and my life would always be cast in shadow. In truth, I had no desire for the warmth of the sun. I craved the dirty grime of the earth and the cool dark of night. Daylight was nothing more than an inconvenience. I reread the words on the page, just one, measly paragraph and I hated every word, every damn letter. I was trying too hard, I was rambling. How could the words sound so good in my head and read so cheesy on paper? I could do this, I knew I was capable. Beautiful prose were in there… somewhere. Unfortunately, while I had passion and I had the skill, I lacked experience. Alas, my life just wasn’t tragic enough to make me a good writer. I hadn’t felt the pain of tragedy or the sting of a broken heart… at least not on my own. Unfortunately, all the most meaningful experiences I had felt were thanks to the writings of others. I slammed the laptop shut in frustration knowing I would likely leave that paragraph in the graveyard of unnamed documents in Google Drive. How many paragraphs, how many sentences had I left to purgatory? Enough that I was running out of MB and carried the heavy weight of failure with me wherever I went. Whenever it became overwhelming and the loathing I felt for myself became too much, my masochistic side came out. I tightened the laces on my trusty running shoes and slid my airpods in. Journey blasted in my ears and I hit the pavement. Nothing like a late night run to clear my mind… or let my anxiety run free so I could wear myself down mentally as well as physically. I was not a runner, nor did I particularly enjoy running. I wasn’t fast and I wasn’t physically fit either. It was my own personal punishment, letting my feet slam against the pavement. I could run away just for the night. My steps carried me further and further from home. Houses had vanished and been replaced by corn fields and small copse of trees that signaled when one farmer’s property ended and another’s began. I wasn’t too concerned with getting lost even though it all looked the same. How could anyone get lost in this day and age? When you carry a map with GPS on you at all times, you would have to be an i***t to truly be lost, at least physically lost. There was this dissolution that the older we got, the more together we would be, that adulting would become easier. That was the greatest deception because I felt just as hopeless as ever, probably even more lost than when I had first reached adulthood. I pushed myself harder against the pavement, lungs starting to burn. My dumb ass didn’t even bother to grab some water. I should have turned back but no, I kept going. Running for no reason other than to run, with no destination or plan in mind, ignorant to the foolishness. My body was not meant for this. A diet of cheeseburgers, nuggets and pizza when I remembered to eat and copious amounts of soda was not my friend. Tightness in my calf gave way to ripping pain as I tried to recall the last time I had actually bothered to eat a vegetable. Do pickles count? Nope, probably not. Either way, I was limping home and my run was over. I paused, taking the time to point my toes up and down to try to ease the charlie horse. I could never remember which way you were supposed to point your toes. It didn’t help so I unceremoniously plopped myself into the grass. I probably should invest in some therapy. Yep, most definitely. The dew from the grass crept into my sweatshirt and leggings, and still I laid there involved in an inner monologue of how a conversation with the therapist I don’t have might go, “Hi, yeah, I’m Lena. I have no trauma. I just suck for no reason. I have great parents who love me and support me. I’ve never been poor and I wasn’t bullied. I’ve never had a boyfriend who mistreated me. Still, I feel like I am going crazy and crawling out of my skin. Can you help?” Laughter filled the night…. It was mine. It was one of the few times I was thankful to be in rural Ohio where everyone was home safely and not privy to my breakdown. Of course, everyone would probably know by morning anyways. That is how it worked. I sat up and stretched, sanity returning as I checked my watch. Was it really three in the morning, the devil’s hour? I glanced about trying to place which country road I had wandered down. My heart stilled in my chest as a pair of amber eyes peered out between the trees. My irrational fear of bears took over. Maybe, it wasn’t all that irrational considering one had been spotted a few months back. Bears didn’t live in this part of Ohio… or at least they didn’t use to. So of course, I researched. First I researched if it was even possible that a bear was in the area. It was. Then I researched what to do if you saw one. Of course, in that moment under the full moon, I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to do if I saw one. Was it to stay still and not move or get big, make noise and wave your arms around? That was the route I took. I popped up and waved my arms too and fro like I was full of air, dancing in front of a used car dealership while shouting nonsense. I’m sure I looked like an i***t and I will never know of the effectiveness of my method because it was in fact not a bear, too little and the wrong color. Whatever it was, was not scared of me. A blur of grey rushed from the trees and like the very sane individual I am, I closed my eyes and braced for impact. I promise I will never write a guide on how to survive in the wilderness.