Personal Narrative: The Rainforest

I can't move without a plant touching my skin. Everything I loved about this rainforest just this morning is elevating my heart rate and killing my logical thinking capacity. The sheer denseness of the foliage had made me feel cozied, like in all this space I could still be snug. The thousands of noises had crashed over me as refreshing as any waterfall, overriding my senses and setting my brain to the same chemical soup it was in when I first fell in love. In that cocktail of endorphins, I have wandered too far, now the closeness, the sameness, the noises are like robbers at the door, banging for entrance and the phone line is dead. My wide-open eyes move with pointless speed, I want to see blue sky and space all around - not these broken twigs and muddy shrub. The warm air, so reminiscent of saunas, has come to feel like soup in my chest. I would run but I don't know which direction to take, a repeated piercing squawk fractured my focus and sense of direction, the same intrusive sound repeated but I kept calm. I knew its source was a bird, near the ground and probably within ten feet of my location, but hidden in the dense curtain of
Every daffodil is a sunny yellow and I feel the bile rise in my throat. Each one is perfect, a golden trumpet amid a fanfare of halo petal. They are many, but so delicate, and they wave like tomorrow is guaranteed. They stand rooted, soaking in the sunshine and taking in yesterday's rain through their fine roots. I want to protect this place and I and grateful for what I have, I want to throw a force-field over it but even my back up power is draining and how could I justify using it on these blooms that move in the wind - a living ocean of light. I smell their fragrance and brush against them, will I ever see a sight like this again? Maybe. But for now gratitude is my best