Nobody Can Make You Bleed Your Own Blood

You know those moments in life that seem eternal, but are really ephemeral? Those moments when you’re on the brink of existential discovery, because it’s you and nature. It’s you and the universe. It’s just you…

zzzzzzzzzzz

Then it’s not.

ZZZZZZZZZZ

No. That is not the sound of peaceful snoring as you sleep in the unencumbered natural habitat of humanity (which is the fancy way of saying outside). That is not a peaceful drifting of a person who has fallen asleep in their tent under the twinkly sky above them, as the trees whisper in a cocooning breeze, surrounding you in a natural blanket of woodland protection (the fancy way of saying camping).

No.

Everything you thought about the tranquility of nature, the peacefulness that is just you and the great outdoors, it has all been shattered with this one incessant high-pitched humming.

The mosquito.

This sound, when turned on in the darkness of your tent, basks you into a squeal of high-pitched ringing, just flickering with an intermittent idea of what’s out there, but never letting you fully see what’s in front of you before it disappears back into the blackness. It is a dying florescent light of the wilderness.

The mosquito’s call is not a call of the wild. It is a call to the wild. And the wild is you.

The power that that sound evokes inside you, as you hear it whispering in your ear. There is no sound that will bring a person to the bases of their animalistic barbarism like the sound of the mosquito taunting you through the night.

If the mosquito was kinder (as far as a blood sucking fiend can be kind), it would take your blood while you’re lying there, swaddled in your sleeping bag, your face a charcuterie board that’s already out and awaiting its hungry guest. But that is not the nature of the mosquito.

The nature of a mosquito is savage.

It does not want a readily available appetizer, a quick snack for the taking. It does not want the charcuterie board. It wants a buffet. It will tango with death, allowing you to release yourself from your cage, before it feasts. It must humiliate you before getting what it seeks.

zzzZZZ

At that singular high-pitched sound, a beast explodes from within you, bringing you to an alert position, crouched on all fours, your legs still entangled inside your sleeping bag (because you are in a tent and cannot stand and face the enemy. The one advantage you have as a human). This is your first error. It has brought you down a level. You are no longer a civilized human, standing tall and proud, able to squash your enemy from above. You are now in a more vulnerable position, fetal almost. You have been brought back to the helpless position you were put in before you knew how to fend for yourself.

You listen, trying to find the source of the sound, but the sound has dissipated. The only thing you can hear are the crickets outside, the soft movement of the leaves as the wind catches them, and your palpitating heart as it thrums in your chest. But there is no more zzzz-ing.

This is your next error.

You are lulled into a false sense of security, even though deep down you know it’s still out there. You pause a moment longer, letting your eyes dart back and forth, pretending like you are the one hunting, instead of the other way around.

You see nothing. You hear nothing. You tell yourself that you probably got it when you hurled yourself from the pad below your sleeping bag, crushing it in the force of your leap, a flattened emblem below you (Yes, that is it). You must convince yourself of this lie, otherwise sleep will await you in perpetuity.

You lay back down on your sleeping pad, breathing in the fresh air that has filled your flapless tent. You look to the glimmering blur above you (because you have taken out your contacts, and the stars are just blobs in the sky. But you know what they represent). You are once again one with nature.

But nature is not one with you. Nature is still hungry.

Zzzzzzz

Last time you had been completely caught off guard. This time you have left an arm free, ready to make a countermove. You were not foolish enough to believe yourself of your lies!

You flail, swatting your arm in the direction of the sound. You make contact. It is but a wisp of hair that meets your palm. You have grasped nothing of substance.

____________________________________________ ZZZZZZZZZ

It is on your other side now. The side still entrapped. It knows. If it could feed on shame alone, it would have quenched its thirst.

You try to maneuver your free arm to the other side, but the angle is no good. The only way to defeat it would be to smack your own head, but you are not yet that desperate. No, not desperate enough to hit your own head, but a new possibility opens up to you. When desperation calls, you may have to answer it, but no one said it had to be face to face.

You know what it really wants is for you to leave your safety net. That is what it’s been asking of you the whole time. That is the translation of the whisper. You have tuned into the frequency of the high-pitched noise like a dog to a whistle. Only you can understand that it’s calling for you.

You unzip your sleeping bag, letting the air flow in, opening your skin to the outside.

Nature is calling. It has been calling. That is why you are here. In this tent. On this earth. You cannot defeat nature. You do not want to defeat nature. All you want is to be part of it, and it a part of you.

You know those moments in life that seem eternal but are really ephemeral. This is that moment. Nature is infinite, but you are fleeting. There is no discovering existentiality, because by its very nature you exist to die.

ZZZzzz

It has come for you.

Its high-pitched wail fading ever so slightly as it moves from your ear to the exposed skin of your leg, finally getting what it has wanted this whole time. You breathe in, letting this moment of time wash over you, an eternal moment for yourself caught in an ephemeral second of time.

You feel the ever so slight tickle of its landing, the teaser to the constant irritation that is to come. The itch that is worth every second of this moment with nature.

It is time for nature to be part of you, as you are now part of it. It is the final error. And it is the mosquito's.

SPLAT

Nobody can make you bleed your own blood. Except for a mosquito.

The thing about the infinity of nature is that it’s part of the circle of life. That is what keeps it infinite.... which means it is also a part of death.