What If I Just Went Wild?

I'm starting to feel like some wild beast is trying to rip open my chest. I don't belong here.

What if I just went wild? Returned back to my animalistic roots and extinguished all the fires of uncivilized behavior that has been burning in my chest for so long?

At one point it felt like the composer of this reality didn't know what the hell he was doing. Until one day, he poured a crescendo, thick like honey, over my mind's eye. And something awoke. Something got offended. And something was buried. My new awakening to the call of the forest, the "normal" humans turning their noses up at my wildness, and the cracks of my molded clay starting to sprout.

How long will it take you to bury me, you ask? An infinite number of years. Because I am constantly becoming the wood cabin, the fireplace, the oak, the pine, the choppy rivers, the calm lakes, the starry sky, the wet soil over and over again. I am thickening up, to soften up, just to shed over and over again. And while I am thick, I am palatable. No one likes a thin stew. But when I begin to soften, the outsiders take me into their hands and try to mold me back into what they think I should have never left behind. You are far too soft. Thicken up, or else life will be hard for you. But the irony is that life is about balance. If life is hard, why would I be too?

But they see me as abnormal and unorthodox and I take that as a sentiment. You mean to tell me, that I've broken that mold so much, that the cracks can no longer be covered with gold, but now the sun shines through and my soul is left exposed? THANK YOU. I knew it was my time to shine.

So I've been thinking, what if I just go wild? Leave all these pretty landscapes and pretty people and go somewhere that'll make them all ugly. Because nature is the strongest mirror for the darkest part of yourself. Nature reveals all and conceals nothing. She might make you take your clothes off for a dip in the lake if you're not careful. And then, there you are, exposed and vulnerable. But for whom? The animals you look at as animals or the animals you look at as humans? They are the same at the end of the day.

What if I returned here? Came back to this? Maybe that is what heaven is. Just a forest, just some trees, some berries, and other animals following instincts. But of course, where would I find love?

Love is as important to me as breathing. What if I went wild? Would the wilderness birth me a romance? Yes. I see it. My wild man, basking in the sunlight, his locs perfectly splayed out on a speckled rock. I can imagine him asking me what took so long to come home. And I'd say, societal expectations. We should be married now with children with regular jobs and a retirement plan. He'd chuckle at this and tell me we can have as many children as there are raindrops if I so please. And the best retirement plan is not having one. Not ever thinking Ah now I can breathe and no longer work! What if we breathed while we worked because work was simply living? It is "hard" right? Why choose a hard life AND hard work? And at the end of our workdays, we'll lay our heads down, look up at the sun with a wild gleam in our eyes, and think, Yes. Now I can finally relieve my lungs from breathing.

And this is where my heart lies. Somewhere between heaven and a notebook. My words, just thoughts on a page while the trees add a bit of color to the shadows surrounding me until I finally come home to them.