The pleasures of autumn

Simen tries to convince the men in white coats not to take him away.

As the world is getting progressively darker and colder, one’s general quality of life might seem to follow the temperature on its downward trajectory. I have however found that any signs of autumn blues can be combated by rigorously stepping on crunchy leaves.

You see, there’s limited fun in stepping on healthy, green leaves. For starters, they’re not available in abundance on the ground. Secondly, they offer resistance. Merely stepping on a regular leaf will in all probability do little harm. You have to apply a forceful heel and to an awful lot of squishing about to bring about the desired results of destruction, and through it all the leaf in question will resist you to the bitter end.

When at last the leaf is disintegrated to a sufficient degree, it still exhubes an aura of spiritual superiority, as if to tell you that ‘you might have bested me, but in this asymmetrical power struggle I never flinched, gave up or compromised my valour and thus emerge victorious and will receive my reward in the afterlife’. The sort of stuff that attempts to make you rethink your life and values, and thus completely ruins your day.

A crunchy leaf, on the other hand, is another story alltogether. First off, there is the crunch. The crunch that signifies you succesfully broke something, which is infinitely more satisfactory than the soft squish of a fresh green leaf.

More importantly, the pleasures of destruction are multiplied tenfold by breaking something that has already given up. When you approach a crunchy leaf, it has fulfilled its purpose in existence; it has spent its lifespan photosynthesizing and for a brief period of time, enhanced the visual quality of the world through its play of colours once the photosynthesizing had finished. By the time its destiny intertwine with yours, it can do nothing but meekly lie on the ground, spent and exhausted, awaiting the inevitable decay restoring it to an earthly state. A process which it wishes to go through in peace, with as much dignity left as possible. But no. A crunchy leaf is absolutely powerless to resist you, its spirit already broken. It is only able to timidly succumb to your heel, and you can revel in its absolute despair. Every crunch signifies the leaf’s utter inferiority compared to your triumphant being.

Of course, with such an abundance of half-dead leaves on the ground, you can repeat this process indefinetely until your hunger for annihilation has been satisfied. When done with the day’s havoc, I also suggest take a moment to breathe in and savour the trembling fear of whatever leaves might be left, as they shiver in the wake of your ruthlessness knowing they might be next.

Power, absolute power. Mwahahaha. (Seek help. Seriously. – Ed.)

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