This morning I saw a disturbing sight in Cascadilla Gorge: the remains of a pumpkin suicide. The hard rock floor of the gorge had shattered the pumpkin. The other students crossing the bridge blindly walked on, more focuses on their upcoming finals than the tragedy that had taken place.
Well, little pumpkin, you are not forgotten.
I imagine it started off life just like any other seed. The pumpkin probably grew up in a nice patch close to Ithaca.
But then it started hanging out with the wrong crowd. It probably was picked up by a bunch of frat boys (I'm looking at you Lambda Chi.). Then one day the hazing began. It probably started small like being drawn on. Pretty soon, it had lost its guts, was full of holes, and even was forced to eat fire.
The month of November most likely pushed the pumpkin over the edge. Since Halloween no one even looked at it. The pumpkin probably sat alone just rotting with lonely thoughts.
The gorge must have seemed like the only answer. Poor pumpkin… if only someone had cared.