I’ve been going back to that old ruin near the river every day since I could remember. The stones are cold, and the grass is tall. Sometimes I sit there and just watch the light change. Today, I saw a bird fly past the broken archway, and for a moment, it felt like the sky was breathing. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to think. Just sit and let the wind carry the thoughts away.
I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all this. But right now, the only thing that matters is that I’m here, breathing, and the world is still turning.