I live in a world with silvery-green grass dancing in the wind. The temperature is an autumn temperature, and the atmosphere is gray, not blue. It's not so melancholic as most grays would depict, but more inviting...

I live in one better part of a world where there's a huge courtyard in the middle of a wooden, modern-looking, building. The wood is a silver colour, because that's what's being reflected, and there are wooden boards criss-crossing the courtyard. They're more noticeable in winter-time when the areas between the cracks fill with winter snow. In the middle of the yard, there is one big Cherry Blossom tree, but the petals won't fall off at the end of winter like in the real world. There is no summer and spring to change into in this world; just fall and winter.

There is no need for a roof above this courtyard, because there is no rain, no nighttime, no daytime, just a calm, colorless sky, and there are no bugs to aggravate the mood of each waking day. There is no mud between the blades of grass to stick to my shoes, and it doesn't smell like the woody outdoors; it smells like winter - A smell that's only identifiable once someone has experienced it.

Above and around the courtyard there is a seemingly endless expanse of trees, but they're in the background, like the blurred visions of a movie, or the etched-out details of a photograph. I'm unable to pinpoint their colours because that place is unimportant. The only place that is important is the cherry blossom tree, which easily out-shines all of the other, more common-looking trees looming out ahead.

There is one person living with me, but that's all I need, because too much more would upset the environment, and the environment is too precious to be messed with. That person is my opposite in every way, but as they say, opposites attract, and isn't the environment my opposite already?

I wear a light blue sweater every day and casual black jeans because that one person likes me for who I am, and all I care for is their opinion. Soon, the atmosphere will change to his liking, something I will hardly notice because I stopped paying attention to it months ago.

It will change slowly - colorless skies turn to lavender, clouds begin to form, and for a while, they're colorless too, but then they begin to match the color of his eyes. There is no more courtyard or boundaries, and there is no gravity. This world belongs to us, so there is no fear of falling anyways.

There are clouds everywhere of every different color, and soon I can taste. Everything is edible, everything is sweet. There is a fountain where the cherry blossom tree used to be, but when I go for a drink, my hand will pass through, as if it's an illusion, but it isn t. I know it isn t.

Soon, the place turns into a land of wonder, a place he's always wanted to live in. I could care less, but he becomes attached, and soon, I will drift away, leaving him behind, and then I'm all alone.

The temperatures will be below freezing, but I won't feel it. There will be no temperature in my body. Surrounding me will be ice. Pure, un-tainted ice, but suddenly there are boundaries where I am again.

I'm alone, and the world is restricting me. Controlling me. I search for leverage, but all I see is myself staring back at me in those reflective ice walls. I strive for that perfection I once had, but the world around me will not change, so I turn to myself. I am not vain, but I starve for what's best.

I do not taste.

I do not want.

But I starve.

I don't care, though. It doesn t matter as much as perfection. What I need will block my goals, and that just cannot be...

The world around me refuses to bare the essentials I need to survive. It holds only what I want it to. I crumble, smaller and smaller, but I do not realize it. I only care for the perfection I am so close to - always just out of reach, never close enough to grab. Perfection grows and grows, but I hardly notice it because I am blind.

Soon, the world changes once again, and all around me there is snow. No ice, just snow. The walls are covered by it. It blankets the ground, and no matter how far I dig or search, there will never be another sheet of ice to measure my progress. By now, I am so far gone that not even snow is as mezmerizing as it once was.

I've beaten perfection, and now I am a particle, just another one of the molecules in this world to shift to another's whim.

So I watch from a distance as nothing happens, because nothing is what happens when I try to be the best: Suddenly, I'm not so special anymore.
~Astonished Apples (Also on Fictionpress{http://www.fictionpress.com/s/2852510/1/Normal})