It was a beautiful Saturday morning. I was minding my own business on a walk, TRYING to enjoy a little spring sunshine. There he was. Fresh out of his little bee hole, buzzing around for the first time this year. Buzz Buzz Buzz. I still can hear that little buzzing sound. Basically nature's text alert. I went to get a closer look at the little flower he was on, when suddenly shit hit the fan. BAM. An awful stinging sensation in my arm. Happy spring! Guess I'll never wear short fucking sleeves again! This guy really stung me. Did it hurt? Of course. But it's more than the physical pain, I can heal from that wound. It's the principal of the situation. I signed 3 petitions in the LAST YEAR alone to "Save the bees". Well maybe we need to rethink that a little bit. You do your best to be a nice guy out on a walk. A guy who shared several info-graphs on my Instagram story regarding the delicate balance of ecosystems, and this is what I get? Bullshit. Fucking bullshit if you ask me.
I will NEVER feel safe to walk in my own yard because of this. My kids are horrified. They said because of this tragedy they think it's best to stay inside and play video games all day. Poor little ones. This is what we want, huh? My kids wont know what sunshine is? For what? So we can get some honey? Do I hold a grudge to the bee who stung me? In short, No. Am I ready to move on in any capacity? Also no. This will take some time to heal from. Until then I will be inside forced to the confines of my home. A prisoner of my own mind, trapped here, like a sitting duck hoping none of them will get into the house. Until then we wait. I will go for a walk again, it may not be today, it may not be tomorrow, but it will be go-for-a-walk-time again. To the bee who stung me: Grow the fuck up.
