What even is time?
I have spent this week deep in contemplation. I have laughed and I have cried. I have raged against what seems like the futility of it all.
Or maybe it is just January? The ennui is real and seems inescapable.
Instead, I choose to give my emotions to the forest.
In the forest, no one can hear you scream. Some would find that chilling but I am a witch. In the forest I can scream to my heart’s content. The trees can absorb it like they do my carbon dioxide.
In the forest, oak is my friend. As is the tiny mushroom that I almost step on, nestled between the fallen leaves.
I know that this is only the beginning. The Winter has yet to deepen – our feet fall through the ice as we step across the half-frozen streams.
I don’t know who I’ll be when the ice finally thaws. For the first time in a really long while, I’m okay with that.