Nature Journal: Escape

• One thing I love about the woods. The isolation. A pressure gets lifted off my back when I enter that haven. I feel like screaming right now, my eyes are stinging in frustration. I hold it together. I let it grow, that black bulk; if I were on my own with the free trees I would run as fast as I could. I would throw myself to the floor and writhe in anger. I am afraid though that if I were to enter the woods at this moment in time, that I may never come back to this world. What’s the point?