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And as you walk with the dog like every night it happens: 
you think and think and think. You let your mind fly. 
Maybe it's the smell of the soil after the rain, 
or the intense green of the trees around you, 
but even though you're filled with thoughts you're speechless. 
You just let it be. 
And you think about those who've held you, and loved you. 
About those who trusted you, who laughed with you and /or at you. 
And then you think about those who've used you or lied to you. 
And then about those who could have been but weren't. 
And then about those who were and shouldn't have been. 
And you think about those who in a way, helped you get to today, 
after all the turns you had to take, all the changes you had to make, 
the peaks and the lows, trying to figure out where you are, what you are who you are. 
You notice you still have no answer. 
You think and smile. 
And remember those pretty damn eyes, 
or that other sweet laugh, 
or those strong hands with no owner. 
The butterflies, the nervous giggling, 
and the will & desire of seeing those eyes as you wake up, 
the need of that laugh besides you and those hands between yours. 
You daydream. 
You make small little wishes. 
You roll your eyes at yourself, 
'cause you're alive and there's nothing more interesting than that. 
Funny though. 
And then go back home, try to write it down in a way that others can relate, 
and prepare for another day finding yourself, growing in the forest of souls that you live in.

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