The cattails sway in the chilly autumn wind and crispy brown, yellow, and orange leaves fall from the great oak trees that surround my little personal lake in the forest. I pick at the grass beside me, toss pieces into the lake and watch as they are gracefully carried away by the slight waves being created by the breeze. I predict that a piece of grass will make it all the way across the lake, instead of sinking half-way across. They always sink half-way across. Along with that one.
A family of birds sing. Frogs croak. Crickets chirp. Just how it always was. Always is. And always will be. Thats why I like it here, it never changes. Not ever. It's always beautiful, charming, or delightful out here. Never gloomy, depressing, or sad like the real word.
There's fighting, arguing, and murder in the real world. Sadness and anger. Death and fear. This place just seems so much better. Peaceful and relaxing. Calm and beautiful.
I stare up at the sun, it seems to burn my eyes, but I don't care. I don't care as long as I'm here.
Nothing matters here. This is the place I came when my dog died. When I lost my teddy bear. When my parents yelled at me for getting an F on my report card. When the news shows a terrorist attack. When I need to escape the real world. When I do not care.
I wish I could be like the cattails across the lake. Swaying with the breeze, care-free. Weak but strong. Detailed but dull. Beautiful and ugly.
Oh, how I wish I could be like the cattails.
"Excuse me?"
