Wednesday, June 8, 2011

The Forest

Sometimes, I think that if I was an optimistic idealist I would be happier. But I am not. I see things as they are, to the best of my ability. Things are bad. Things are very bad. And they are getting worse. But you know, that's OK. It is, because things are always the very worst right before they get a little bit more awful and then they get better.

You know, there is still a calmness, and a peace inside me. Even when things are the very worse. Even when I am in my deepest, darkest, most wretched places, and it seems like it has left, it hasn't. I know that because I always come out of those places.

To me, if there was a place that personified peace and happiness, it is a forest, and a field by the forest. The sun shines through the leaves and everything sparkles gold and silver. The butterflies float on the wind and land on the moss under the trees to drink the moisture. (And no, I have not been eating any mushrooms.) Mushrooms! There are mushrooms in the forest and little white flowers in the field. I wish I was a better writer so that I could better describe it.

But it is lovely.

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