As I read my previous notes, I wonder if anything new has come out of it. I'm still searching for some kind of freedom. And I've once again returned to writing in search of it.
I can see right now the same vision I've had before. A dream I dream of, as I sit up, awake, and lose myself in the emptiness around me. A great big field, soft blades of fresh green grass, and warm winds twirling around me. The softest of music playing in the back, with each single sound making tangible, things of nature that are often unseen. What it must feel like to have literally everything, but still feel like something's missing. What it must feel like to have everyone's support, but silently be fighting a lonesome battle. And what it must feel like to have a home, but live as a wanderer. What little satisfaction it provides to have a clean complete house, but a mind full of chaos. To have all things you've ever wanted, but very little of what you need in the heart.
I can see right now the same vision I've had before. A dream I dream of, as I sit up, awake, and lose myself in the emptiness around me. A great big field, soft blades of fresh green grass, and warm winds twirling around me. The softest of music playing in the back, with each single sound making tangible, things of nature that are often unseen. What it must feel like to have literally everything, but still feel like something's missing. What it must feel like to have everyone's support, but silently be fighting a lonesome battle. And what it must feel like to have a home, but live as a wanderer. What little satisfaction it provides to have a clean complete house, but a mind full of chaos. To have all things you've ever wanted, but very little of what you need in the heart.
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