I can’t help but to feel that sometimes maybe I should be alone. I’ve witnessed my parents die alone. Maybe it’s in the writing after all? I wonder on how well I could survive in solitude. I don’t believe in destiny but for lack of a better word, maybe it is? I imagine streams and trees. I imagine harsh cold and heat. I imagine hearing no other voices at all. I imagine never being able to reach out. Dying off into nothingness. Equal to the streams and trees no one ever knew about. In the greenest grass or clearest ice. I wonder if it will happen. I wonder if any trace will be left. I wonder if it will ever be found. I imagine what it’s like not to be what I am. I wonder what it will be like when I’m not around.
Matt Horror 2020