I step out of the room, and something feels different. The light brush of the wind against the tiny hair follicles on my body. The almost silent song of blades of grass rustling. I feel the ground beneath me, but also the ground for miles and miles more. All the way down to the center of the earth. I feel the tree roots reaching as far as they can, desperately hoping for more food, for another chance to live. I feel the clouds, drifting delicately in the sky, just barley floating. It feels as if I’m one with the earth. As if the earth understands me. And I start to think, maybe this life isn’t so bad. Because even when I think I have nothing left, I still have sunsets, the moon, the ocean, the dirt, the wind, the sand, the sun, and myself. I’ll always have myself.