We cannot accurately portray ALL that we are, it’s impossible. So we choose which parts to play with publicly.
It’s easier to believe that life is suffering, life is hard. You drink to soften its edges, you lose yourself in your mind to siphon joy from the depths of your imagination.
But the wind wasn’t listening. It was too busy being alive. It was too busy wondering why we renounce the fact that we too, are nature.
There is something significant in going back to your roots. Going back to the origin of you. All of the masks I tried to wear and the walls I built up around me fell away.
Things weren’t looking good. I laid the tissues on the bathroom floor and crouched down to assess my new friend’s vitals. There was no movement.