This place. My place. Our place. The place. The place where even if you're there alone, you're not truly alone. That place that lives in my backyard, on my doghouse. I lie there for hours, counting the stars, thinking about my problems, feeling nothing and everything all at once. It's a weird feeling. But it's not necessarily bad. Or good. It just is. I feel like it's the only place where I truly belong. I just sort of disappear into the sky and into the wind as it sways through the tree next to me. The rustling of the leaves makes me feel at ease. The sight of the stars makes me feel less alone. The thoughts that circulate throughout my mind make me think in ways I've never thought before. Everything seems right. Everything seems wrong. Everything is confusing. Life. People. But here, I can understand these things more. Like why life can be so bad, and why people do what they do. I lie there and think. About anything. About everything. For this place is grateful to hear these thoughts. After all, this place is the only thing I have when no one else is there...
(e.a.)
YOU ARE READING
Words of Wisdom.
RandomA collection of thoughts, poems, and short stories about my life, and also random things that I think about a lot.
