Everything by Seika D., Corning-Painted Post Middle School, Nonfiction.

Sometimes I just like running past life. People say that I’m going to miss out on life this way, but I don’t think of it as missing out, I think it’s a whole new way of living. A whole new way of seeing. When seeing things from afar, you can finally see everything as everything. A poet named Wallace Stevens wrote a poem called Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
He says,
A man and a woman
Are one.
A man and a woman and a blackbird
Are one.
I was never philosophical, but in moments of clarity, I see Stevens explaining the interconnectedness between a human and a human, a human and a bird. That we are a whole, that we are everything.
I see everyone, everything together while I’m beside them, not with them. There’s a sort of exhilaration when you’re on the outside. You run past everyone and hear them shout their calls to follow their ways. It’s beautiful. It’s tempting. But I always felt more alive-no, I felt a different kind of alive. It’s almost like I’m in space, drifting around this planet. I can breathe where there’s no air, I can watch from where others can’t or neglect to see. It’s like there are thirteen ways of looking at everything.
One is to see everything as everything. Everything as one singular soul beating. Seeing the pond not just the water.
Two is to see detail in everything. Watch where the first line ends and the second line begins. Seeing where the cracks are widening and where it has been filled, by looking closely.
Three is to see love in everything. The simple hug, the passionate kiss, the way two hands swing while holding one another.
Four is to see hatred in everything. To see when an argument is bursting, and how pain can be inflicted and cause a swelling of loathing and rage.
Five is to see fear in everything. Looking at the way fist are colliding with an innocent, and to be scared by how truly terrifying everything is.
Six is to see the repetition in everything. Watching the constant repeat of things, seeing the same patterns being made, the same circle being drawn.
Seven is to see endlessness in everything. Watching the limitless infinity, the everlasting continuum.
Eight is to see limitations in everything. To see where everything ends, where the edge finally meets, blocking the path onward.
Nine is to see beauty in everything. To constantly watch the beautiful girl and her sun-kissed hair and illuminating eyes.
Ten is to see ugliness in everything. Looking in a mirror and feeling unsatisfied, looking at others and feeling distaste.
Eleven is to see slowness in everything. To see the lagging and sluggishness in everything, making everything more crawling then walking.
Twelve is to see hurriedness in everything. Seeing that even the fast,
isn’t fast enough.
And thirteen is to see everything from the outside. By watching everything from beside them, not with them.

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