The constant hum of voices to my left signals my privacy as I, once again, refuse to turn up early. It represents an effort to put up a pretense of being surrounded when I am, in fact, alone. A comfort of sorts to say the least, lest I feel the urge to cower under my blanket and hide.
My eyes travel down as my finger flawlessly trace over that roll of spine I so often make use of. Manipulation is a necessity and I somehow felt a tinge of regret at the things I have gathered. Suddenly, the valley has erupted like an optical illusion from around me, its vast expanse drowning me into its depths and my mind went a whirl. The green isn't a feeling I would like to visit. I believe no one does. It is a suffocating and horrid a place to hang around in. This is the place where people often forget and become blinded with the things they think they see.
I looked away and envisioned a place of contentment but the colour lingered and the feeling remained. I believe that despite the odds, I haven't gotten this far to simply be discouraged - not now. There are far more fruitful things up ahead.
I can never be too sure, but it never hurts to hope.
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