Hey Mr Journal. I'm sorry I haven't talked to you in a long time... a lot has happened. Well, I guess I should tell you.. never mind. I'd rather not write it down. Bad things happened and I did bad things, that's all you need to know Mr. Journal.
I'm going to talk about something better, instead of give you details of my life. Earlier today I was laying in the grass. I saw the prettiest clouds roll overhead. They drifted, forming images of creatures that rolled and floated away. So soft, I wish I could climb the tallest tree in the world and reach them. Just to sit there as the swirls of the fluffy whiteness floating around me. To be able to be lost in the breeze, the smells, the freedom. Oh how I long to reach out and touch the softness of them. To not have to be worried of the ground beneath me or of those that walk across it. Wouldn't it be nice to be free like that?
However, the clouds have to fall someday too. They must turn to rain and plummet to the earth, splashing across the soil and turning it into a dark brown so that fresh greenery can sprout. So that the trees can stretch to the sky and the flowers can dance at their roots. The grass flows in the wind, the leaves swirl. New clouds begin to form overhead as the drops of the rain settle in the dirt and sink away. They can watch as the clouds roll across the sky, but they were not that high and free any longer. That is the flow of nature, the beauty that allows it to go from day to day.
Anyways, Mr Journal, I should go. My head is aching and I'm too sore to sit in this position any longer. Be safe.
