I walked along the edge of the hospital. The thickness of the bushes along the side made them impenetrable. The thin threads of the spider wove up and down the “No Parking” signs that press up against the bushes. As I passed them, all I could think was that I wished I had a stick to break them all down. All those good for nothing webs. Beautiful as they may be, I wish I could wrap my stick around each and every thread and break it until it was nothing. And then I would throw the stick into the bushes. I would throw it so far away I would never even have to look at the stick that had the threads on it. I don’t care how long it took the spider to create it. I don’t care if it is their source of food. I wanted nothing more than to destroy each and every one along the walk.
Insects fly unsuspectingly into their incandescent quilting, only to be held fast. Though they may struggle, fight, and tug against that which they initially thought would be so appealing, it is too late. They are trapped.
It’s not fair for those stupid insects. They didn’t know. They thought it would be safe. No one ever told them it would be like this. No one ever said that the spider web, while looking beautiful on the outside, is really a veritable trap for their inevitable doom.
And so I wanted to break them all down. Because I wish someone would do that for me. I wish someone would break it all down and save me from things that no one ever warned me about.