It is blooming anyway...                                  

Today the world feels like a small box for me and I'm сhoking here.

* This is an old unpublished post but I feel that way so often even now*                                          I feel so isolated from the real world, like either I've never belonged to it, either this  connection has been broken so long ago that I already don't remember how does it feels to be a part of it. It's like everything has been broken. All my sweet memories are broken into thousands of shiny pieces. Memories of the times when my sollitude was not loneliness but the conversation with the whispering trees and the soft noisy river waters. When I could easily feel into the joy of existence, joy of the shimmering stars above, joy of the wet sand, joy of an ancient oak, joy of grass, joy of flowers, joy of eternal silence. That silence that contains infinite wisdom in it. Did I ever need someone in those early days? Or everything I was longing for was silence? I can't remember.

It was such a beautiful morning but I felt broken hearted again.