My life...I hate it at points to where I feel like I have gone as deep as I can get in the hole. And now the dirt is falling in on my, burrying me alive. It's at these times when I feel these pains within me. Pains that make me want to cry, when I'm alone, yet there was no cause to make me cry. No thoughts, no words, not anything...just certain experiences that happen when I'm alone...like a certain feel of the wind blowing...or the sun in my face. When I'm outside, in the spring, summer, fall, or winter, when the wind blows his cool chilling breeze and or winds, I feel a complete feeling or inner peace. The feeling inside me when the wind blows through my hair and clothes, It feels so right.
Some days I just want to walk away. Just up and walk away out of town. To go somewhere, and live alone. Alone in the country. Away from the polution within the city limits. Away from the cars, and tall skyscrapers and buildings. To be...to be free! To follow the wind, where ever it takes me. To live in the wilderness. With no money, no stores where I buy my food. I want to start my life over again. To have a fresh start, and live the way our ansestors lived. To have to make our shelter. To have to hunt for our food. To live in balance with nature. But I wouldn't stay in one place...I want to be a wanderer.
It feels right to live life in the way we once did in the past. In the future, there is polution, and less wildlife. Some things of the future might be good, but then...then the things we once did for ourselves, are done by machine.
When I get these feelings, and thoughts, I feel like there is a whole nother person deep within my soul, as if I had once, lived long ago in the past. I feel like I USE to be a wanderer in the past, but died and were reborn into the body I am in now. I sometimes wish, that I could go back to the past and be a wanderer again. Back to before we had school, and machines. Back to when we relied on nature for water, like the rains. And when we relied on the farm animals, for transportation and farming, like the horses and other livestock for plowing the feilds.
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The Black Velvet Book of 'S'
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