I can only run.

I don’t know where I am going, but I don’t particularly care. Not right now.

I’m sure I run through many trees and bushes. I’m sure I get soaked from the rain. I’m sure that I run far. Away.

I don’t know when I stop running. I look around to take note of my surroundings. I’m surrounded by dry grass. I can see for acres and acres of the flat terrain, and all of it is covered in dry grass. Not even the wind disrupts the scene.

The consistent crunch follows me as I continue walking. Not knowing where I am, not knowing where I am going, not really caring.

Actually, the vast emptiness and quiet is almost a familiar thing. A comfort.

At some point a tall silhouette slowly becomes visible on the horizon. I don’t change my course, because it is directly in my current path. At least I have some sense of confidence in this direction now.

As I walk, it seems harder to make good progress.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

The sound my only confirmation that I am moving forward at all.

Yet, at the same time, I stand in front of a tall, strong tree in no time. It has a sturdy trunk and long branches covered with vibrant leaves. It is completely out of place among the barren plains that surrounds it in all directions till forever. It is the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.

The tree reminds me of what I’ve been avoiding. What the plains have distracted me from thinking about since I ran.

It is almost like nothing that happened before mattered. The betrayal doesn’t matter. Other people and their stupid thoughts and complicated feelings don’t matter. I don’t have to care about any of that any more…

… except do.

I care that I can’t go back. I care that I lost the only semblance of family I had ever had. I care that I can’t stop caring about two stupid people living in a bare, humble home.

That tree sure is beautiful…

Maybe it can help me forget, even for just a little while…

How to care.

How to hurt.

I slowly reach out to trace the intricate pattern of the rough bark.

I don’t move.

I don’t move, even as the entire tree bursts into flames.

I don’t move as the once lively leaves shrivel up and powder the field with ash. Those leaves could have sprinkled down on a lovely new couple.

I don’t move as the once reaching branches shrink into themselves and crash down to the dry grass. Those branches could have held a strong fortress for a couple of kids.

I don’t move as the once sturdy stump slowly peels back layer by layer until my hand grasps at nothing but smoke. The stump could have made a strong foundation for an old man to build his house.

I don’t move as all the grass that I could see for acres is overtaken by bright oranges and yellows. The grass that animals could have froliced and hid.

In no time at all, something so beautiful is gone. The heat makes it impossible for my face to release the torrent of tears to accompany the tightness in my chest.

I can only keep walking.

I can’t go back.

I can’t even care to try.