I feel numb.
What is it to the life I live, to the lives that those things around me live, that my mind is now as numb as my body?
Do I expect sympathy or understanding? Do I seek comfort or pity? Am I worth something to anything? Was I snatched away from the final stalwart of my tenuous grasp on what truly matters to me?
I am a rock. A Celestia-damned rock. And who am I to think I could ever be anything more?
Let’s say, for the sake of argument, that I spontaneously appear next to Bloomberg. Let’s stop all rational thought and just blindly hope for a few seconds that all of my wishes come true. Who am I with?
He’s just a tree, nothing more. Should he matter to me?
No, no he shouldn’t. A rock and a tree don’t belong together, nor should they be together.
That doesn’t mean he doesn’t matter to me.
And he does. He matters to me, more than anything else in my existence has ever meant to me before.
Why did I dare to hope? Why do I still dare to hope? We have caused each other so much pain and grief—I heard his screams as I was torn away from him. To lose each other was as torturous to him as it was to me.
Yet, now that we have committed... what else is there to do? We cannot simply ignore one another. We cannot pretend our life together never happened. Even those few brief days that we felt one another is worth an eternity hoping to feel the same touch again.
For better or for worse, our lives are entwined.
Admittedly, I could not have asked for anything more worth pining for in my days of solitude.
In my dream, I wander the orchard.
I know where Bloomberg is, but... I can’t bring myself to look at him. I know that, when I do, I will see things that I can’t bear to look at.
Pain. Betrayal. Resentment. Fear.
Hope.
Perhaps I will see only my own misguided hope reflected on his leaves to gaze back at me. I believe I will see hope in him as well.
Hope is all I have.
I look at Bloomberg.
Bloomberg doesn’t notice me.
At first, I’m angry that he would ignore me after we had weathered so much together. I know that he would never do that, though... so I look more closely.
Bloomberg seems... weak. Sick, even. It’s as if he lost something, or perhaps he was attacked. I get the feeling that I caused this, but I can’t fathom what I’ve done. I would never wish pain upon this tree I love so dearly.
So, in my dream, I watch and wait. I am the comforting gaze which guards him against evil, unknowing things. I am the strengthening presence that he has to pull from in his time of need. I will be here until the sentient world drags me back to where I must be.
I feel beset on all sides by malice. In my feverish conscious cycles, I hear the other trees taunting me. They laugh at me, a stupid romantic that had once had a dream to seek out another who will never be able to seek me out in return.
I am a stupid romantic. Even in my exhausted, delirious mind, I know I am. I will never give in to their cat-calls, nor will I lose hope in Tom.
They know I am weak. They know I am all but powerless. They take this opportunity to grow their branches toward me, creeping closer every day. Even if it kills me first, I will use up all of my energy to stay away from their tempting grasps. Every last one of them.
I should be using my energy to recover from the loss of my root, not retreating from my fellow trees. They care nothing for my situation: Who I am, what I want. They are pushing me to either die or join them in their disgusting perversions of what it means to be a tree.
I will not forsake myself or my upbringing to let them have their way with me. I am stronger than that.
The thing I miss most is Tom.
I am so weak I don’t even dream anymore. I know he is there, waiting for me to return to him, that we may once again see each other’s worlds. I get the feeling he is seeing mine; it pains me to know that I can’t see his as well.
I am in constant pain. It lances down my root, several small particles of dirt having wedged themselves into the exposed wood, where they remain to torture me for my poor decision.
No, it was not a poor decision. I felt Tom. I knew him. I had him in my grasp. There is nothing that will ever cause me to forget his beautiful shape.
And so, I labor away, trying to halt my untimely death while still maintaining my sanctity of self for the time when Tom and I will touch again. He is the only thing which keeps me strong in these trying times, and I will regain my health for his sake, if not my own.
I love him. Is that not enough of a miracle? I can regain my health with that knowledge alone. I just need to remember that he is here, watching over me, every moment that he is able.
I will become strong again... and I will find him again.