Short-Fiction
We Could Be Much Worse
by Gustave Deresse
It’s late, and no moon may be found upon the sky. I pace the brief length of my balcony, addressing what I can only label as ‘myself’. Steadily, I slide into a downward mental spiral harbouring no end in sight. Oh, I know there’s nothing wrong, but somewhere in my heart stands disagreement.
Until you looked into the night sky and realized how seldom you think of stars during the hours of daylight.
Yes, we forget about them.
Distracted, my sight pins on a lone spark shimmering in the distance above. I can’t imagine what I miss in a single moment, what I might see, given true abilities to detect. For physical beings, the wholeness of existence remains indescribable.
I’m overwhelmed by the firmament; the universe, as I knew it a moment ago, fades into silence.
Suddenly, an alternative perspective arises, a new lens through which I must now sense and understand my life and reality. In ordinary circumstances, this would be tremendous.
Just having realized the endless beauty, the grandeur, the vastness of the unknown encompassing us all — it’s cataclysmic! For what can be done without synchronicity?
How will I attain balance where no ground may be proven stable?
How do you expect to take direction, lacking a consistent sense of knowledge on your path?
Stop!
Please, not today.
If it’s true that not everything real can be sensed, and that we can experience the unexisting… then I’ll settle with whatever feeling of trust accessible to me; to the best of my capacity, I’ll employ critical thought.
There is a version of everything I understand; this is my guiding light.
You don’t know what that means!
Perhaps, but unknowns can only be given so much weight, before we’re forced to elect the clearest discernable path. Sure, illusions exist, and mistakes are natural plus bound to happen! I can’t beat myself up while growth and learning are ever options.
You poor, depraved fool.
Yes, dear friend — but we could be much worse.






