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Here I lie and I feel alone.
In this house of four people.
Here I lie and I am alone.
I may as well be in the Arctic.
Cold, bracing, painful.
Life wasn’t supposed to be like this.
Life should be easy like a bird gliding through the sky, way up above the shallow ground.
Somehow they just know how to fly.
I always imagined a successful life.
Full of happiness and ease.
Stumbling onto luck after passing patches grassy trees.
But life is not so.
Rather the grassless lands of the Arctic.
Treacherous, slippery, cold.
Like the kind of snow that your feet sink into.
Or the ice that breaks beneath your feet.
But I still hope for grassy planes.
I still search for what I think exists.
Maybe it is all a mirage.
Maybe I am staring into an abyss.

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