I like the mountains.
When I climb high enough, the whole world seems to spread before me. Places that once meant so much to me—gardens and backyards and bedrooms and the memories that they hold—they shift and move and melt away into the horizon, and I realize that the barriers I have drawn and come to understand as real are really all in my mind. The gentle curve of the horizon reminds me that this life is not linear, and we are just a tiny, barely-blue speck, swimming in a sea of galaxies with depth so profound that I can't possibly grasp the enormity, the entirety of it all. Sometimes I get tricked into this feeling of overwhelm, this feeling that I'm drowning—but when I really think about it...I'm not drowning, no one is. We're flying.