filidox:

Maybe I’ll just become insignificant. I’ll stop working hard and abandon my dreams (you were one of those dreams) and I’ll run away and leave all my problems behind. I’ll grow my hair long and dress myself in leaves and branches. No one will remember me, after a while. Certainly you won’t. I would become one with the forest. I’d grow old with the trees and the animals. And when nature steps in and takes me away from life, from this, and from you, and sets me on the cold, metallic table in a room full of others cold and dead like me, they’ll cut into me and find rings. Rings of life, like the trees I lived amongst for all those years. Each ring signifying a year I went on and lived, without you, without anyone. And though, hopefully, those rings will be many, I should think I would still appear the way I did in that moment that I knew you were leaving and, to you, I had already become insignificant.