I never knew how much it would cost (not literally) to banish myself from the Kingdom of Well & Good. Nobody tells you how life changes and what aspects of living that same life change when you leave, for obvious reasons. Rain poured down on us all day today, and now, I’m soaked. Everything I own soaks in water, moisture, dampness. I never realized that even fire can look wet. For the time required to scale Kip Mountain Pass on the far eastern slope, we trudged as the rain fell from the skies and drenched us all. At the summit, the rain continues to drizzle, unrelenting, burdening our minds with the damp heaviness of each water drop that lands. Some refuse to see the magnificence of it all, and others love it too much. I —not one to take a stand— see the rain and accept it for what it is. Things such as they are rarely make themselves known, except to say that out here, all things have changed deep within me.
Life and the interactions therein were always palatable there in Well & Good. I would feel myself succumb to the lies I needed to tell myself in order to get along in the world, be accepted within it. Nothing, and I mean nothing, rubbed a person the wrong way, which is also to say that nothing really ever rubbed a person in exactly the right way, either. It’s like I said, in the Kingdom of Well & Good, all is well and good. Until, inevitably, things are not.
That story, evidently, ought to be told at a later date. For now, thus, the thing I wish to tell is a thing about which I have only just learned or realized or have become privy to, and now I would like to share this … piece with you. Although, I must warn, if a warning necessitates itself, that to stumble upon such knowledge would probably suit the learner more adeptly. My situation regarding my desire to tell of such things —things that really ought to be learned for one’s own self— elicits a sense of perplexity. Since I no longer know whether or not to tell or speak of such insight, the right or moral or correct thing to do at such a moment as this eludes.
Well, look at that. The rain has stopped and now, yes, indeed, the clouds part as the bright light of the sun speaks to me and informs that I absolutely cannot tell of the knowledge I have gained as a rogue citizen —former citizen— of Well & Good. They tell me that even in my banishment, self- or otherwise, my capture would result in my execution. Apologies, my sincerest apologies I do sent to you, if you feel as though I have misled you in some way. Join us, maybe, and learn for yourself what can only be learned when you leave the world, nay, confines of Well & Good.