I walked over to the small cliff, looked over the edge, and saw that it was about five feet above the water. I decided to take off my shoes before sitting down. I knew my feet would not have gotten wet, but it seemed like the right thing to do. I carefully placed one foot over the edge of the cliff and guided myself down until I was sitting comfortably on the edge, then I swung my other foot over. I leaned forward to look down at my bare feet hanging above the lake. They seemed natural, like they were meant to be there. Just beyond my feet, I noticed the smooth surface of the water, transparent but slightly green-blue, and flawless. Beyond the surface were the fish, some small and some large, but all nomadic and adventurous alike. Their scales gave them a shiny and impermeable coating and their movement was fluid and natural. Their bodies contoured to create an everlasting current that passed through and left nothing in its wake but unaltered water.
As my eyes traveled away from my feet and along the surface of the water, I became convinced that this lake was a boundless ecosystem that held an infinite amount of life. I became utterly aware of the vast magnitude of nature in comparison to myself. It was a surprisingly satisfying feeling.
The water stopped at the shore on the opposite side of the lake. It was too far away to see anything other than trees and bushes, which created a soft blanket that lay gently over the land. Right above the trees was the half-crescent sun. It was a fiery, passionate, cherry red, like the color of love, and was far enough in its descent that it was not too bright to look directly at. It shined red beams of light upwards, which seamlessly blended into a more calm purple, and finally into a stagnant royal blue which sprawled out throughout the rest of the sky and had the effect of stimulating wonder while stifling curiosity. I had no desire to know what lived or existed beyond the blue canvas. It was like my own version of “Starry Night”.
I laid back, continuing to stare at the blue sky. My mind was effectively void of any worries or cares. As I lay there, the only thing I thought about was what I could do to keep this feeling alive. I wanted to stay there for a while. I wanted to camp out by this pond and watch the sun set every night. I wanted to live alone in nature.
“BOBBY!” I heard my friend Michael yell. There was no alarm or urgency in his voice. He was just looking for me.
“I’m right here,” I said. I saw his eyes search the forest and then finally land on me.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Nothing… just lying down” I responded. A puzzling expression came upon his face like he did not understand the idea of ‘not doing anything’.
“The bus is leaving,” he finally said.
I sat up, reached over to grab my shoes and then slipped them onto my bare feet. I worked my way up and then turned to Michael. “Alright… let’s go.” I said to him. He began towards the bus and I followed him, though I was looking down at the grass and pale blue flowers that were scattered across the forest floor. As we neared the bus, I began to hear the muffled purr of the engine. When I looked up I saw the sickly, gray smoke coming from the muffler. Then I saw the white bus with the blue line running along the side. There were about fifteen kids leaning against the bus with bags at their feet, conversing. Then there were a few others taking pictures of each other in front of the sunset. It was unsettling when my foot first hit the hard, paved road because my steps turned into hard slaps against concrete instead of gentle contortions around small pebbles or twigs.
I leaned against the side of the bus, away from everybody else, gazing at the tree line that connected the fresh forest floor to the sweet blue sky. I was deciding how I was going to be able to camp out by the pond. I could ask my parents and they would probably tell me I couldn’t, but that didn’t bother me because they were just people, while nature was something more because it wasn’t just nature. It was a thing, but it was also an idea and an equivocal sympathy. We were all insignificant in nature.
Role call began and we had to load onto the bus. I was the first one to get on and as I walked down the aisle I again looked down at my footsteps. I found a seat in the back row where I could be alone. I sat down and began to stare out the window again; only now it was depressing to me that the glass separated me from the outside world that I was going to be leaving it behind soon.
The engine revved, we pulled away, and before long we were on the highway. I gazed at the distant grassy plains and anachronistic trees, trying to cling onto the wonder of natural beauty despite the glass that separated me from it all. Eventually, we reached metropolitan America and the trees were replaced by run down houses and the flowers by lampposts and the grass by concrete. I decided to listen to music. I reached into my pocket, plugged the headphone jack into my phone and shoved the ear-buds into my ears.

**Music**
**Tetsuo & Youth**
**Shuffle**

I closed my eyes and reached my hands into my pockets as the music began.

We’re all chemicals
Vitamins and minerals
Vicodin with inner tubes wrapped around the arm

I payed attention to this lyric more so than I ever had before. I contemplated it’s meaning until I realized that twenty seconds had passed and I had missed lyrics that I had wanted to listen to. I began the song over but before the lyrics began again I felt a rough nudge on my shoulder. I looked over to find Michael leaning over the aisle from the opposite row, signaling for me to take out my headphones. I took them out, slid into the aisle seat, and swung my knees out over the edge. Once there, I was suddenly introduced to a crowd of faces. They were all conversing or chanting or laughing.  It was too many personalities in one space. I noticed that all of my friends were sitting in the seats around me.
“We’re all betting to see who can hit the bus driver with a spitball,” Michael said excitedly. “Everybody’s putting in five bucks. Do you wanna do it?”
I looked a few rows up and saw one of my friends looking side to side to make sure nobody would see him. When he was sure, he quickly brought out his straw like it was a sniper, aimed it for a couple of seconds, and then pulled the trigger. The spitball flew through the air. It came to a screeching halt on a window about three rows behind the driver. The shooter let out a disappointed yet amused grunt and punched his thigh with frustration. We all broke out in the type of uncontrollable laughter that comes amidst a communal defiance. I fished out a five-dollar bill from my pocket and agreed to buy in. Our eyes were all on the next person in line as he lifted the straw to his lips. We held in our laughs of anticipation. He went to shoot the spitball across the bus but it lamely fell out of the end of the straw and landed onto the floor next to his feet. Our laughter intensified until we could hardly breathe anymore and my gut almost burst open. It was finally my turn but I had to wait a few minutes before the laughter had died out. Michael handed me a napkin. I took a small corner of it, placed it on my tongue, and worked it into a ball against the roof of my mouth. I put the end of my straw in between my lips and as I sat frozen in this position, I felt the pressure of everybody’s hopeful eyes as if it were an Olympic event. I shot the spitball out with as much force as I could muster up and watched it soar over the heads of every kid on the bus. Just as it seemed like it was going to land right on the back of the driver’s head, it veered left, flew past his ear, and landed on the front windshield. Startled, the driver turned his head for a split second and then turned it back onto the road. We all slid away from the aisle and burrowed ourselves into a corner to avoid being seen as we looked at each other laughing about something that we knew and nobody else did; and we enjoyed our moment of elitist satisfaction. We finally agreed that we should not continue for fear of being caught.
The money was redistributed and we continued to joke about the driver and his hilarious oblivion. We proceeded to talk about girls and sports and the funny movie we all just saw. As this chatter continued, our laughter and vacant conversation weaved and clung together to create a cocoon that protected us from the outside world and vice versa. The bus finally came to a stop. We waited for everybody else to leave and then we got up and made our way to the front. As we were leaving, I glanced over at the bus driver and saw his face clearly for the first time. Suddenly, my binding to the others was gone—shattered—and I stood at the top of the steps for a few more seconds. It was just enough time to forge a one-sided connection with the driver. I noticed that all of the muscles in his face were relaxed as if he had grown tired of emotions and given up on them for good. He sat back in his chair looking forward with hopeless eyes and a pessimistic wisdom that he clearly possessed despite his relatively young age.

I stepped off the bus and saw that the sun had now set, but the city never slept so the streets were always illuminated. I looked over at my friends. Now objective, I was able to realize that it was not a cocoon that enclosed them, but shackles that hindered them. They would never be able to escape the approaching thunderstorm that I now realized was bound to consume all of us. If they tried to run away, every one person would be held back by the others. I looked to my left and right and saw buildings that exceeded the physical heights that man should have ever reached. I realized that they were barriers between myself and whatever truth lay beyond them, and that I would never be able to see the storm coming because of their tremendous size. I also realized that my friends were virtually unaware of anything that preceded them or would succeed them, and while I too was blinded from reality, I, unfortunately, was vaguely aware of some nebulous doom that lay ahead, and I did not know what to do about it. So I did the only thing I could think to do and began to walk home.