I’m failing. Miserably and inconsolably.
I look into the open fields and I see the vast blue skies spanning miles and miles across. The empty stretch of grassland does no good as scorned and humbled I walk, across the lonely roads.
Ten miles before and ten miles after, there isn’t a soul in sight.
I look towards the scattered robins and try to feel the life energy pulsating through them. I can’t.
I walk across the curb and I see the moss growing out of the half frozen sewage.
My hands start numbing and my skin prickles with the gradual chill of wind. I push my hands inside my pockets for warmth. I feel cold.
I look around once again. I am in an alien land, with alien houses, alien people and alien birds. There is something highly unsettling about this unfamiliarity. Something almost terrifying about not knowing, not being able to find my way around. I guess maybe I am the alien here.
I wonder if everyone around feels the same way. I stare at the people in cars passing by.
I pick up a pine cone on the way home. I cross the pedestrian bridge and see the sun shining through the winter clouds.
My silhouette reflects with the trees swaying along the river bank. I watch the beaver and ducks waddling across the pool without a worry in mind. I wonder if I could be like that and try to push out all thoughts from my mind.