I became a real vegetarian six years ago. The thought of someone suffering overpowers the taste. Little by little I’m noticing that I don’t need much at all.
Clutter binds me; I want to detach myself from things that I don’t use. I don’t care to put on too much makeup, I don’t care too much about fashion…
I just want to have natural and genuine relationships with people. Maybe that’s why in parties I seem happy, because I am… letting myself get questioned. But every time I feel the pressure to behave like how I should, I clam up.
Deep in the forest, by the cave, I sit with animals who keep me company from the distance. We don’t say a word and we don’t touch at all, but I feel like they’re listening to the melody of my heart. I look at a hare and think that I could never hurt it. The hare hops away to do what it does in order to live. I look down and play with rocks in my hand. The sun manages to beam through the tree branches into the woods. It feels so lonely out here once in a while. With whatever little I have left, sometimes I feel like I myself am disappearing. I walk the forest trails following this strong, invisible thread of love. I push through the leaves and look as far as I could to see if I could find him. I don’t know if it even leads to anywhere, but it’s the only thing that gives me hope.