I don’t think I really like nature. It’s too cruel for my soft little half-hearted pitter-patter of a beating fucking heart.

What I’ve really been admiring all this time is the individual animal, the cleaned-up looking images that make the aesthetics of nature look harmonious. That is what I’ve been chasing after, the perfect imagery of all ‘peace’ and ‘green’ and so far removed from the truth of the brutality of it all.

And I suspect that’s also what most others mean when they say they love nature. No, the truth is we only love what we wish nature was like.

People say things like, ‘isn’t the British countryside so beautiful.’ But all I have ever seen in our oh so quaint British countryside is the same greenery turning brown, over and over and over and over…A vast emptiness in which a liminal space hangs between us and the dread we’re so clearly meant to be feeling.

I’m not talking about the brown of autumn as the green slips and slides into reds, browns and yellows. I’m talking about how it looks to me throughout the year. A vast carcass upon which you all stand and talk about how beautiful it is, with the sun glaring in the sky for this one frightful opportunity of light to see a vast nothingness, a desert you don’t see because it’s dressed in shades of green.
Am I really so far removed from the beauty? Is my perception really so out of wack that we can be seeing the same damn fucking thing?

And in my quest for some semblance of life within this rotten kingdom we call united, I have looked to the woodlands (what little there is left) and nature reserves.

And this is what I’ve learnt, there is no real beauty out there that isn’t only surface deep. Underneath it all is the stark truth of an inherently godless world. And if there is such a thing as a God, it’s worse even still because that God made it this way which can only speak to their absurd level of cruelty.

The truth is British people aren’t a nation of nature lovers, we’re a nation of people who think we’re nature lovers. It might behoove us to know the difference.

And many would say this is the rambling of a mind in a current Depressive state, and I’d say I agree, but then I have to ask, am I wrong? Look at the evidence before you.

People will shriek at the idea of insects, worms worming their way underground, death and the maggots that brings with it. Yet that is all part of the natural world, as is disease, parasites and shit.

Don’t get me wrong there are people who genuinely appear to love nature, and I can only look on at them with jealousy because I sure can’t fathom it.
I thought I belonged to that crowd but the more I contemplate it, the more I fight inside my head every time I try to decide if I want to go out into that world out there, the more I’ve come to the conclusion that it truly is superficial for me.

Scratch under the surface a little, I bleed a hatred that I hold inside of me, a resentment toward nature for being so absolutely bloody, cruel and gross.