trixxiebon

When you look at me, what do you see? What do you feel? What do you hear your heart saying about me? Does your senses tingle, like all of a sudden you can feel the weight of the wind that crashes against your skin? Or walking suddenly felt easier to do when you realized it later than you do?

Am I the question or the answer? Or am I after all only a catalyst, a subdivided catastrophe, a hidden tragedy that leads to the answer or a blessing in disguise? A divine call or curse, whichever the case, I am not one of it, I am neither the question nor the answer.

When I die, I believe my soul will fly with the wind, though freely and supposedly happily, what if the wind is the only thing that keeps my soul going? What if the wind does not come, if and when the sea breeze does not come in, I am just standing there, a lot like floating rather... And that is all my existence will succumb to? My body has formed within the roots of the trees that surround me, my bones underneath the soil that keeps the tree firm from falling. That is all I will ever be, even before life and after. I am never that important. Not an apple to anybody's eyes but I have loved and I will be loved. At least I know I am not alone. But even if so, these people who can relate to me in the same way that I feel, they do not know nor do we meet. I am alone after all.