Perhaps our story was already written among the vast sea of people. Weathered by torrential rain and battered by fierce winds, it slowly began to sprout. Then one day, your roots plunged deep into the earth and found a dewdrop. The dewdrop told you, “This place isn’t right for you. Go!” You shouted, “But I want to take root!” So you kept going, walking and stopping, until you seemed to glimpse a muddy hand reaching out to you, trying to bring you over to me. I ran toward you in frightened little steps, wondering, Who are you? I wanted to know you, but the waters in my heart were already churning like a stormy sea. It was too late.
I waited and waited, while a little grass that had successfully taken root mocked me without restraint. “She doesn’t want to know you or talk to you, and she certainly doesn’t want to meet you,” it said, laughing as it put down roots. Its laughter made me question my whole life, left me dazed and distraught, and kept me tossing and turning in bed.
The night wind kept howling as it always did. Cold raindrops trickled down to my roots, and suddenly I realized...
