I was broken, and sad, and unhappy, and anything related to those words. In the quiet forest behind me, I could only hear the whispers of the trees. I hated it when they talked about me, like I was the one who caused the pain.
In the loud river after me, I could hear the excited rush of the waters. They wouldn’t stop, even if the rocks told them to. I made my way to them.
I gripped on the waters, but found them slipping between the gaps of my fingers. I tried to do it again, but they wouldn’t let me.
Just then, I realized. I realized.
The shit that kept happening in my life, they’re the waters. And I hated them.