happy days and sonder nights

So the light rain fell onto green trees in whistling winds, where the world felt so in tune with your presence, where your world was so in tune with your own spirit. It'd been a while since you last felt so content. A little victory from those drumming demons that would knock on your room's window night after night as you gave in, conformed, and harmonized with their wishes.

But that wasn't enough and they slowly went from knocking to breaking in, tying your hands behind your back and forgetting to even read your rights because you weren't even worth it. You were a game, being used and tossed around until the boredom overcame them.

Your world in the day is bright and sunny, no chance of rain and nothing to keep you hostage from your own self. And your nights would rumble in hurricanes and monsoons, your dreaded time has come.

Even so, the soft bark of a tree can be the strongest thing in a monsoon.

So why can't you? You've softened but you forget to notice the many layers you've grown and how strong you've really become. Where you lose yourself every night, it seems that you embrace the following day stronger.

You feel a little sonder, a world running without you, a world functioning and moving on without your presence. The countless individual lives being lived just like yours, where you've simply become an extra in the corner of a coffee shop in theirs. Your world's shrunk and you feel insignificant.

But imagine you being gone, the ripple effect it would create in the lives of everyone around you and those around them and so on. You will, certainly and inevitably, shake the world with your absence. 

Every time the world loses someone, everyone loses someone.