So basically here’s how it started:
There was so much pain, so much love, and so much hate. The beauty of things were that they were uncertain and the happiness was found in the midst of sadness as sadness incarnated. Days consisted of sitting on fire escapes to escape the non-bustling conformity of a loving life full of anger. I saw that there were holes in the middle of my torso that told my mind how achy things were, how sad I should feel—I grew up slowly in a matter of months.
She told me it would work. That things would go as according to plans planned of a bright future and strange happiness at every corner, but I ran into roadblocks and into boulders I couldn’t reach. I asked why over a million times as I cried, not understanding my frustration. I was so confused; I am so confused as to why these things happen in life, why I felt so fragile and cracked. I received the same answers, that things would work out fine and I sit here now thinking to myself—when?
Then one lazy afternoon a pine tree branch, leafless, but with seeds, stabbed me in the heart and planted its child into me. It stung, I gasped. Then from within me grew branches through my limbs and my hair turned to the color of green and became long pine leaves sticking out of every direction. My eyes remained brown and my feet stuck to the ground. So I looked into the windows of other students at my hall and saw the stages of their college career—the party nights, late nights of studying, and the heated kisses traversing amongst them. Then the winter snows came.