there i was, standing in the middle of the world on my very own two feet. i looked across the fields, watching weeds upon weeds swaying in the wind. i squinted my eyes and kept my mouth tightly zipped shut, because the wind was making my mouth dry and my eyes dusty. i got tired of it and closed my eyes. my hair was whipping my face mercilessly, making sure to wrap itself around me like a cruel serpent. suddenly i was thinking of all of the times in the summer i took for granted, when it wasn't fucking windy. suddenly i was thinking of all the weeds that weren't there in the summer. i swayed a little in the wind, wrapping my arms around myself as my coat dug into my elbows and armpits. i was pretending to be a weed. in the summer, i wasn't a weed. i was a young boy back then. untainted. who the fuck actually was i? i sat in my room every day. i wasn't looking at fields, or fields of weeds. i was staring at walls. then i came to the weeds.
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short writings
De Todowhatever i write pointlessly or just like, i store here. if it has a ⭐️ it means it's my favourite thing ive wrote :3
