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like the trees in the wild

9 Feb

From the window in the office, I watched the lamp posts sway. Paper, dead leaves, and plastic bags became alive, lifted themselves from the street and danced above the traffic on the highway below. I felt it. I could feel it in my bones. Something was happening. The wind howled long and loud, and I could see its effects on everything outside. I wanted to be a part of it. I don’t know. It’s stupid, really, to imagine myself a piece of string picked up by a gust, tossed and twisted and whirled about in the sky. Free of worry. Happy. Thrilled. But it’s dumb, because I’m here and I’m trapped in this body and all of the time I spend wishing to be free of it seems to make everyone uncomfortable.

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