As I sat at my desk, the prof drolled on. This was a sociology class, but she was on some tangent about hard won civil liberties.

"Can I ask a ya'll a question? Why don't you vote? What eversion do young people have with voting? Many people died so you could have that right."

Only one girl at the other end of the room had an answer. The prof went on, clearly disappointed, and trying to get us engaged with what she perceived as a significant strife.

I looked outside. I felt like screaming and falling asleep, but I couldn't figure out which, nor how a person could feel two such things. It started to pitter patter rain. The gray clouds loomed outside, massive beyond anything of Man, immutable, and infallible. They'd loomed over this bay before the first ape laid down a footprint, and they'd be here long after we've moved on. The brick buildings looked gloomy and under used. I'd maybe seen five of my peers every walk in and out of the Peach Fields. What was in there? Student resources? Biology maybe? I couldn't remember. Maybe there was nothing at all.

I heard a deep voice in my head, "You're as powerless as you choose to be. The fruit of choice gives you that option. That sliver of god is just that."

I closed my eyes. I leaned back in my chair. I fell backwards and impacted with a crash. Water rushed in all around me. I was cold and blue. Bubbles wafted upwards. They floated carelessly, shimmering. Their skin rippled and flexed, creating incredible symmetries. Parts of them broke away, and these children found their own way to the surface.

My head broke above the waterline. I was in a dense forest. I clambered onto the rock bank. It smelled of pine and wet soil. Sitting on the shore, I found that I was next to a river that emptied into a vast body of brackish water. Snow capped mountains filled the horizon. Tides of green dressed them. I pulled a blunt out of my right pocket and popped it out of its plastic tube and a pocket flask from my right. Shivering in the cold evening, I sipped and I smoked. Immersed in something greater and older than I will ever be, here, I was ready to die. Or to spend the night alone. I will never be complete, but for me it's good enough be steeped in the whole of something that is.