I haven't been counting the days anymore. I no longer see the point. It seems now my life consists of the same thing. Every morning I wake, I feel worse, and worse, like all the guilt and regret is sucking the life out of me. All I think I ever do now is sit at the boarded up window of my Lurkim, and I just find myself staring at the stone that says "Unless." Everyday I try to figure out what it means, and why the Lorax left it there, but it seems everyday, I grow further away from the answer.
Not too long after the Lorax left, and the last tree fell, the factory closed down, and all the metal that was used to build the factory, was used to build the city, my city, Thneedville. It was actually built on top of the small town that I used to go to, where I would sing about my new invention, and how it would change the world. I guess, in a way, it did.
After my factory was torn down, I managed to build this small structure over the grounds of which my factory used to stand. The window in my bedroom faced the city. I boarded up the windows, so I wouldn't be reminded too much of the living embodiment of my greed.
Everyday, I find myself taking with myself, arguing with myself. I'm not finding my voice gowning raspy, and my breathing irregular, but I guess I'm still getting used to this new air. I can my body growing weaker, and my eyesight seems to be getting weaker as well, but not so much though.
Throughout the days, and weeks, a few souls will come out to this place, despite its conditions. I tried to put on signs telling people to turn back, and leave, for I don't want them too affected by the harmful air way out here. But they come anyway, bringing me gifts, usually food, or clothing. It was kind of nice to see people actually cared about me, but I soon found out the gifts were all in vain, for they brought them to me, in exchange for information, on the Truffula tress, and what happened to them. I, honestly, was confused, surely they would've remembered what happened to them, but I soon realized that these kinds are new to this world, and have never seen a tree. I did tell them the story. Everything that happened, and it all was my fault. There were, at times, people who I would've given the Truffula seed to, but I couldn't bring myself to trust them enough to do so.
As each day passes, visits become more, and more infrequent. Dust is now beginning to build up. I looked around my room, the guitar I once played now sits in a corner, strings broken, probably way out of tune, clearly in no condition to play, but its not like I play anymore anyway. There was a cracked mirror on the floor, I looked down into its reflection, I can't even remember the last time I looked at myself. My once black hair had now turned silver-grey, and I now see myself to have a mustache, of which I had to laugh at, I remember back on that day, the Lorax commented on me not having one. The one thing that caught my eye in my reflection, was the scarf I was wearing. It was made of the tuffs of the last Truffula tree. I made it to remind me of a better time, back when my Thneed was just a drawing on a piece of paper.
I guess the only thing that hasn't changed about me, were my eyes. They were the same color they've been all my life, a clear crystal blue. But as I looked myself in the eyes, I see the same thing I've been feeling for all these year, hard guilt and regret.
Now, as I lay in my bed, I can't help but think over how many years I've spent here. It seems I've wasted the rest of my adult life here. But I think of the terrible things I've done, to the forest, to the animals, and especially the Lorax. I've destroyed everything, and there's nothing I can do to change that fact. The more I think about everything, the more I think about how all the years flown by here, yet at the same time, how much time has been standing still.