Needing Myself

It’s funny how easy it can be for someone to tune out the world; to just breath in air that only gets filtered through their lungs.

I’ve always needed that.
To walk outside and feel a cleansing air, filled with the smells of freshly damp grass, blooming flowers; to hear the hum of bark around a tree, or the whistling song of leaves.

I’ve always needed that.
To feel the brisk short strokes of pencil across a paper, to hear the soft flick of paint against a canvas, to see the splash of water as I clean the bristles.

I’ve always needed that.
To get entranced in pages, reading a story that isn’t mine, realizing my life is a subtle story compared to these masquerading characters.

I’ve always needed that.
To have the minuscule moment in time where the only person in my world is me, and I feel the grand flush of red across my cheeks as my energy refills. To know that I’ve come back revitalized, filled with jovial aura once more.

I’ve always needed that.
To be my best self for the good of others, I must focus on being my best; by myself.

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