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37

My eyes were closed and I was drifting off to slumber, dreaming sweet dreams. For the first time there were no nightmares in my life. For the first time there were no dark spaces in my dreams. It felt peaceful, quiet, happy and real.

A few rustling sounds came into my imagination and I kept on sleeping. Not yet ready to let go of my new profound happiness or the buzzling feeling of belong with nature. The sun was scorching hot too but I didn’t care, I didn’t want to let go of this moment. I wanted it to be there forever before the bullies and dirty humanity tainted and spoilt it.

Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words and never stops at all. That was my favorite line from Emily Dickson and her poems. She was a poet and someday I wanted to be a poet like her too. No matter how dumb I was, cramming her lines and relating to them had never been a problem to me, she was my hero. I related to her in every way possible. My life was a mir
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