Stepping off the bus, I feel the cold air nip my face. Two paths are apparent. Half of the group goes to the left, the other half to the right. I debate which way to go. Which people do I follow? Will one path be better than the other? I know that they both end and start in the same place. Like life. Since they start and end the same way, does it really matter which way I go? A poet named Rumi, once said, “It’s your road, and yours alone. Others may walk it with you, but no one can walk it for you”(Rumi).

Choosing the path to the right, I begin to walk. I sit down and with a clear mind I begin to write down what I see. Breathing in the fresh air, I hear the song of chickadees. Two of them sing back and forth to each other. Looking down, I see logs and sticks broken randomly, yet they look like they were all placed intentionally. The logs next to them are meant to be with them. Meant to see them grow up. Meant to help them with their problems. Meant to help them grow into their own logs.

Closing my eyes, I hear the rustle of wind and trees whispering sweet nothings in my ear. Moss covers the broken logs like a blanket keeping them warm. Branches reach out their fingers trying to shag something like a greedy pocket thief. The trees have wounds and scars like our bodies. Looking at each one, remembering the bad memories or the good ones. Knowing each one got us to where we are in different ways.  Whether it’s where we want to be or not.

The longer I stare at the tall trees, the more they start to look like monsters leering over me, ready to make their move. There are people in life who are waiting to hurt me and always wanting to put me down. There will always be people like that, I just need to stand tall and believe in myself.

In the day, the woods is a beautiful place. A place people go to feel calm and free. A safe haven for many. People go on hikes, have picnics, take pictures, feel free, and enjoy the day. At night, it is frightening. In the dark everything comes to life. We are so afraid of the woods, and of what we do not know for certain. Like our future. The trees that were once beautiful transform into our greatest nightmares.  Every noise in the woods is an animal ready to attack. The moonlight casts a shadow over everything, making us think someone is following us.

I am afraid that I am choosing the wrong college. That I won’t make any friends, and that I will regret going there to play volleyball. However, when others talk to me about my choice of college they say I will love it, which makes me feel better. They encourage me and remind me that it’s what I make of it that will make the most difference.

The sun comes out from hiding and creates a glow. Looking at the sun, it starts to hurt my eyes. I don't want to look away even though its hurting me. Sounds familiar. Our society can be hurtful. Social media blinds us. We all know it. Yet we don't stop obsessing. Continuing to make it so important in our lives, when it has hurt so many other people. I know it influences things I do. Everyone else is doing it, so it’s fine. I saw a person getting bullied, and when I told the bully to knock it off, they were confused as to why I didn’t join in. Like they thought that the normal was for me to be on their side. I knew it wasn’t right so I stopped it.  My parents always raised me to make my own decisions, and to not be a follower.

In the woods sitting by myself, I know my friends are somewhere near me. I could scream. I want to scream. Would they hear me? Would they listen? Would they find me? Sometimes we stray too far off the path and it’s hard to be found. We get so lost and eventually people can’t hear us, or find us to bring us back. I fear there will be times when my friends won't be there for me. When we all go our separate ways for college will they still care about me? Will I be able to call them and rely on them? That’s when I have to be strong enough to rely on myself.

This forest and the things in it represent my life. There are different paths to take, yet they start and end in the same place. Life and death. No path is final. I can branch off, find a new path, get lost for a bit, find a beautiful spot that I don't want to leave but I eventually have to. I can follow the path everyone else takes, or I can create my own path. Either way to enter the forest and leave the forest, it starts and ends in the same place.

Walking out of the forest, I see all my classmates gathered around in a circle, yet sectioned off into their own groups inside this circle. For now we are all classmates. After we graduate we will all go our separate ways. I stand there watching everyone.  Wondering what path they will choose to take in life after graduation.

Works Cited

“A Quote by Rumi.” Goodreads, Goodreads, www.goodreads.com/quotes/1134640-it-s-your-road-and-yours-alone-others-may-walk-it.