There is a solitude on the High Plains.
I know why people settled here and
I know why they'd go mad.
I recall as a child, day dreaming not about
wedding dresses or princesses or ponies
but of setting off
into the woods.
By myself.
I was probably 8 or 9.
At the age of 11, I had it all planned.
The beautiful emptiness
and the great, wide future.
My heart has always been
in love. Captivated. Filled
with such longing.
I feel it keenly, now, that call.
To nowhere in particular, just
setting off.
Dangerous, those thoughts in my head.
Prepare yourself.
One day you will knock on my door and
I'll be gone.
Just.
Like.
That.
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