Literature
Solitary Refinement
I’ve been going crazy inside because I don’t matter. But I’m not here to matter. I’m here to sit here, alone, smoking my weed, watching the trees, the clouds, the bees… I’m here to feel the feels, to heal what heals and deal with the deals I’m dealt. Nothing else. You are here to make yourself better not me. What is, will be. Oh but the loneliness inside, the constant gnawing of pride. I want to mean something! To cats and dogs, songbirds, wasps and opossums, to a tiny seed I buried that blossoms, I am not nothing and I know this, and that makes the whole shit-show worth it.