Olivia Fechner

Into The Wild: Zoned In Writing

At an unsteady, sporadic stop-and-start pace like that of a rabbits bound, I dragged the zip of my coat to the bottom of my unshaven chin for the final time. Feeling so weak and frail in body, each movement required much more energy than I could offer. I have become more bone than body or soul. Each joint now projecting off of me like brail on my paper-thin frame; every rib now protruding further than the last, and any remnants of muscle and fat that I once had is now non-existent. Although I am now gaunt, emaciated and in much need of rest and stillness, my mind will not lay as static. While shifting my head backwards towards the glazed baby blue sky, waves of reflection and memories shifted with me. The idea of home came and went-would I run into the arms of my parents? Perhaps I would. Maybe I would embrace them for a few moments, although Im still not sure. I have found my own truth among the wilderness, the way I wish to live my life; I do not want it to be corrupted by the ideas of others once more.

I woke from my thoughts a few moments later to find that I had been crying for some time. Not for the urgency of my death that was now as close as ever, but for the regrets I have and for the mistakes that I have made in my life. For every word that I never said to the people I love, for every bad decision I have ever made, for every saddened moment of my life and the lives of the people around me. Separating myself from them was not finding my freedom; it was understanding the loneliness that follows the separation. With tears still sliding down my face, I looked to the pale sky once more. The vast, unlimited sky is all I hoped to be like when I began my venture into the wild. Now, being so close to the end, I can see that I did not need to disappear for this to happen. The forever expanding nature of the human condition and experience is not something one can achieve, it is something that you always have; like an apple is always sweet, the ever present love between parents and their children, like the powerful and impulsive differences between choice and chance, and the omnipresent blue hues of the daytime sky.

The final indication of life that my body would ever know was the deepest, most filling and satisfying breath that I could feel pulling at the final threads of my vitality. Both a mixture of wheezy gasp and post-marathon gulp, it filled my lungs to their capacity. It was during this final breath that I came to the realisation that I would soon experience a new kind of freedom. It may be one that I was not expecting to encounter so early, but nevertheless, I am willing to accept that freedom can sometimes be found in the choices we don't make, and that control is hardly ever present when perusing happiness. There is a new adventure to embark on, and as I look to the ethereal blue sky for the last time, I know in my heart that I am not alone.