abyssurge

So here i am, in the middle of the forest. Trees around me, me laying in the ferns. At rest while very busy being insect food. Crickets chirp and things move. I itch. The soil surrounds my hands. I dig in, and my fingernails are filthy. They feel purposeful. Is that a word? Purposeful. I am too lazy to check. I see things that are not purposeful al the time. Like doors. They only keep me out for a few seconds each day. Maybe that's their plan, make me feel confident in their weakness, in their ability to just pass by. Someday they will let me in, but they won't let me out.