The Cherry Blossom Tree

There I sat, underneath my cherry blossom tree. The delicate blossoms sway with the slight breeze. My pen drifts across the paper I hold in my hands. Letters form words, words form sentences, sentences form paragraphs, and so on and so forth. The words that are on the page may seem pathetic and a waste of space on paper, but these words are who I am. These words express my deepest wishes and sorrows. They convey what I am truly thinking.

I often find myself asking if all of this is worth it. This world has been so nasty and cruel. People I trusted most betrayed me, the ones I loved passed on and left me, and I feel more alone than I do safe and surrounded. No matter how many people I stand with, I feel alone. It is not always great to be alone, you know. I often wish for isolation, but end up regretting pushing everyone away from me.

As many before me have said, with downs come ups. This world is not always ugly. There is some beauty. The cherry blossom tree is one of these beauties. For years they have symbolized beauty and fragility. These trees are respected by many around the world, and appear in peaceful settings.

When I was younger and ignorant, the world was much like this tree; sweet, beautiful, and delicate. Now that I have seen some parts of this world, I also see the lies I was told. The world has the power to break people or build them up into something great. Unfortunately, not everyone is as fortunate as others.

The colorful, bright world I once saw is dimming. Instead of endless possibilities, I see endless chances to mess up and lose everything. I see less colors than I used to. The main shade I see is grey. As I wipe the tears from my eyes, I look up at the cherry blossoms that dangle above my head. To my horror they too are turning grey. My tree is dying.