september 20th, 2012

From the novel:

          Mitchell walks into the light of day, wearing his laughably out-of-style shorts, a faded green collared shirt he was given through work and a pair of white tennis shoes (sporting a double-knot tied upon purchase). He holds ground for a moment, looking left, then right. An unusually curious disposition sprouts above his chin as he appears to be soaking in the idea of absolute freedom. This looks invades many minds of diverse backgrounds and situations, but tends to fade like the last rising smoke from an extinguished fire. True freedom is a concept understood only by the confident and willing; those who view challenges as means of self-improvement, those who do all they can to defeat mortality by leaving an indentation so deep, future thinkers place their hands on their hips and study with awe and admiration. Mitchell may be able to take a sip of such potion, but to think he can guzzle the whole bottle is naïve, left only to the childish over-optimists—who suffer from the very same problem. It’s not simply about having a tough skin, for you can have the skin of an elephant and remain void of potential. The toughest skin protects the man willing to admit death scares him, only to ask, “What can I do to shrink that fear into a ball so tiny I can drop it in my pocket and maintain control?” No personal accomplishment worthy of pursuit is going to be easy, nor should it. You must find out why you’re afraid and alleviate the answer. Sure—this drive lies within all you humans, Mitchell included, but it suffocates the meek to the point of excommunication—a thought expelled, a desire determined ludicrous. I see this unusually curious disposition sprouting below his scalp and smirk with arrogance. Soak it up all you want, Mitch, for the fear that paralyzes you cannot be squeezed into even the largest pocket you own.