The Dead Bird
a loss of sensitivity
I had just started high school and my day was a piece of shit to begin with. My mom came down from her homebased business office to get another beer and began nagging at me in a nearly yelling tone. She had woken up and decided to actually care about something she normally didn't, simply for the sake to bitch at someone. I was not in the mood. I snapped. I began yelling back at her, about what- money. She wanted to make money at home and make money online using me to make her business fliers. I do remember walking out on the argument. A walk sounded fantastic. The day was almost over, the sun had mostly set but the sky was not filled with darkness completely yet. I headed down towards the train tracks.
As I walked down the tracks headed south, not knowing when I would turn back, I lit up a cigarette I had taken from my mother. It was taken in spite of her. I began to kick around a rock down the track when the rock landed next to what I thought was another rock. It was getting darker and harder to see. I exhaled and the smoke floated away and I walked closer. It seemed like trash, so I moved it with my shoe. It was a dead bird. I kneeled closer to the bird, and felt sorry. Nothing was visible, but if it was, it would not have mattered. The dead bird had my full attention. My eyes were locked. My mind was filled with empty thoughts. The feeling you get when you become overwhelmed with so many thoughts, you cannot focus on any one in particular, so they all seem to be a haze. The cigarette burned to an end, and I decided I would burry it. I picked up the dead bird off the tracks. I was un-concerned with touching the dead animal. Unafraid of any disease that could afflict me. My only concern was taking the bird off the tracks. I headed back towards home, and found a soft patch of dirt. I stuck my hands in the cold dirt and pushed the earth away. I dug nearly 8 inches into the ground before it was too solid to go any further without a shovel. I placed this bird into the shallow grave and a tear ran down my face. The cold wind blew and I covered the bird with the dirt. That night I went home and apologized to my mother, although I still to this day believe I did nothing wrong. I told her I loved her, and proceeded to shower and go to bed.
Now here I am. No longer a little girl. I've graduated high school and trying to make it on my own. I had completely forgotten about the dead bird until about a week ago. My little niece, the same age as I was, had come home from school. She told me on her way home that she had discovered a dead bird in the yard. I asked her about it and the description she gave lead me to believe a cat had probably gotten itâ€¦ It was then at this point when I remembered my story. I looked at my niece, and that's where the relevance of this story takes place. She told me she got a shovel, picked up the bird, and after playing with the dead animal for a minute, she threw its corpse in the trash.
I understand that my situation I had probably gone to the extreme, and that most would probably throw the dead animal in the trash too, however, this had no impact on her at all. She is completely de-sensitized to anything of that nature. It did not phase her in the slightest that her cat had killed this animal.
I returned back to my mom's place where she was busy of course with her work at home business. She was still trying to earn extra money on the internet by taking advantage of me while I was there to help her with the computer. I helped her with an online business opportunity and tried to talk to her about what was said earlier today while I was gone. She was silent while I told the story and we recalled the story aboveâ€¦ and more stories like it. My mom thinks the media and video games are to blame. I think she's full of shit. What do you think?
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