Musings: Fields

Go with camping with your friends. Lose them.

Find yourself in an empty field with tall, tall grass as the sun sets overhead and their voices fade. Turn your phone off.

Breathe.

Feel a sadness inside of you take hold, and feel it come out through the unsteadiness of your hands and the moisture of your eyes.

Allow the sadness to turn into fear. Allow yourself to wonder if things will always feel this way.

Become angry at the thought of things always being this way. Become angry at what has and has not happened.

Look at the trees in the distance. Focus on the individual leaves. Think about how small they are, and yet how the trees need those leaves. You could be a leaf, you note with a small smile, or you could be a tree.

You don’t know yet.

Turn your head upwards to the many stars in the sky and feel small. So small. Too small.

Scream. Scream to make yourself big.

Then, exhausted, softly lay down and allow the grass to hide, shield, protect you.

Focus again on the stars as you allow your eyes to close.

Maybe someday you will be one of them.

Maybe someday you will be the star that gently wakes you hours later, that guides you back to your friends.

Maybe someday you will be the star that follows you home as you gaze out of the window.

For now, you think with a smirk, remembering the rawness of your throat, you are big.

And that is enough.

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