Have you ever drifted into an experience so foreign you lack the means to communicate it and all the rules you relied upon to guide your life become useless?
Don't you listen to the trolls, sweetheart, don't you listen when they tells you what you must be, what you can't do, what you don't know.
Who do you think you are? it says.
Who do you think you are, to speak?
Who do you think you are?
Sometimes the river of thought flows through rapids, smothering the new born consciousness with the many faces of reality, so rich and thick with meaning you don’t even know if they’re yours, if they even exist, whether existence is something whose presence you can guarantee tomorrow.
She had never considered, while enjoying the bounty of flowers and fruit which followed her into the world, that when she looked at all those plants she loved so much, as beautiful as they were, she only saw half of them.
The other half was here, quietly hidden underground.