It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light

People always said that as a human race, we need connection and social interactions to survive and to stay sane, but I would say they're wrong. You don't really need human connection when you can stay in your own solitude with trees that stretch for miles, clouds that you can almost touch, and mountains that kiss the sky.

Who would want to live in a world where humanity is full of disappointment?

Sure, you might someday feel like you're losing your mind because there's no one keeping you accountable of what's right or wrong anymore, and the line between good and evil begins to blur. But really, who cares, right? It's not like a god is watching over you and if there was one, even he would question his own morals about wrong and right after seeing how people treat each other. How people make excuses for the wars. The famine. The disease. The death. People pray to a god who doesn't seem to listen and then lie to themselves about "How they're doing the right thing because that's what God would have wanted".

So yeah, I'm okay living in a place where trees stretch for miles, clouds you can almost touch, and mountaintops that kiss the sky. It's peaceful.

I had made a home for myself in these mountains content with my solitude, working on my cabin and garden, content with the only sound that is made is from the trees swaying in the wind and the high-pitched whistling from the birds talking to one another to let each other know that they're coming home. Sure, I would talk to the plants and animals who was less then willing to listen more than the healthy amount should, but I didn't need anyone. Truly. I was content by myself.

Except for this one day.

This one day that fucked up all of that mentality. I was wandering through the dense forest focused on finding fruit, when I felt my foot get caught on a rock, almost sending me face first into the dirt. I cursed under my breath pulling myself together, when I stopped cold – Curled up behind a bush in a sad excuse of a shelter made up of leaves and branches was a kid, no more than nine or ten, eyes wide with fear and exhaustion. For a moment, I considered walking away. Hell, it would have been the smart move. Why saddle myself with having to take care of the needs of some helpless kid? What was the point? Except there was something in those wide eyes – innocence, desperation, maybe something even worse – made me pause just long enough to curse myself out for even considering it.

I felt myself reaching out to this kid, defying every instinct to stay detached and I couldn't explain why but I did. The little girl took my hand hesitantly like I was some sort of saviour. I helped pull her up from the ground, noticing the blood dripping from a deep cut on her leg. She clung to me putting all her weight onto me, gripping my arm to stay balanced.

"What the hell happened to you?" the words came out harsher than I meant to, but who cares right? I shouldn't that's for sure. I don't care. Seriously.

The little girl flinched at my tone and stumbled back to the ground. I cursed under my breath, frustrated that I was in this situation. What was a kid doing out here? She shouldn't be here. Not in the middle of nowhere, injured and alone, it's not safe. 

"This is so fucking dumb. Why am I even doing this?" I mumbled to myself, crouching down to her level. Every instinct was screaming at me to just walk away. That it wasn't worth it, but instead, I took a deep breath and forced my voice into something resembling kindness, "I'm sorry if I scared you, I didn't mean to" I say, extending my hand, "I won't hurt you." The little girl relaxes and reaches out taking my hand shaking on it. Then, she giggled. Fucking giggling – the sound was so pure it almost made me sick. "She shouldn't be here" I thought to myself. This girl has no business being out here, not in this world.

"Can you walk?" I asked, needing to clean up her leg. She nodded and as we walked, and I noticed she was still holding onto my hand.

As the days turned into weeks, the little girl stayed. I'd give the kid food, a pillow to sleep on in the cabin, and the minimal basics to survive. Nothing more, nothing less, I didn't know her name or her birthday and I didn't need to. I kept my distance, making myself believe that this was just temporary, that she would eventually wander off, or better yet, I would wake up one morning and she would be gone. But she wasn't. She stayed, her presence like an annoying echo in a ravine that I tried closing off. Her wide-eyed wonder was at the simplest things – the way the light filtered through the trees, or how the clouds changed colour when the sun was setting – it began to eat away at me. How could she find anything to be joyful about this godforsaken world, when there was so much destruction?