_{My World}

Shall I write a blog? Shall I... Will I..?
Oh hell, let's get this over with.

Today, sitting here once again, I'm about to write down a part of what I see. Will you be okay with seeing it too? 

Sometimes it's like all the things I dislike start to get to me. All the problems get worse and worse and I stop thinking correctly, because my mind is overpowering me. 

But then again, there's so much beauty, how can I not notice this tree outside my house, with it's roots set deeply in the blurred earth, strong as if nothing has ever happened. His body is big yet vulnerable but he goes with it. The earth and he are one. And then he reaches as far as he can out to the sky that's there to safe him, or to leave him. There's no end. The sky will take his leafes once in a while and so he'll show how grateful he is. I think trees are amazing, I always have, but people don't understand.

And then when you start to search for it, you see the grass that's sp small and so minimal to everything but it's there and it adds green to this colourful world. 

Colour they say, makes colourful, but I'd say colour makes alive. It shows it's difference from any other thing. It makes people happy, or sad. But it'll always make them alive. And when you notice this, you'll get happier seeing black and brown and grey, because they make one live. Because these colours are not just colours. We see in them bad, and we want to protect ourselfs. People can get black. Or orange. It's what we make of it.  Personally, I think black or grey colours are beautiful. They show the true world and it is still beautiful, because it's there. That's something that always gets to me.

It get's to me more than any sad thing. But it's to always fight the other side of this colour. The side that does indeed make one sad, because we can't deny it does. But if so, if strong enough - and don't ever say we're not - we can see the beauty, still. And so there's nothing more than a colourful world - no, a living world ahead of us. Then why are we letting everything get to us so easy?

It's because we, or I myself, am hurting myself the most. And that's the real problem.


Sigh

I'm going to peace out for now.
I'm sorry if it didn't make any sense to you, but I certainly did, I enjoy writing down things and get to the end of it. Though this might not be what I'd call my usual post, I'm happy I'm able to post this.

Thanks for the read, that means a lot to me.


Love, Tessel.