not spring yet

and maybe we are like trees growing up, stretching into the sky. but we grow both ways, up and down, high and low. we grow in reverse, with our roots reaching deeper and deeper into the ground, anchoring us in so many pieces of past until what's beneath us is so heavy and intricately interwoven that it's a struggle to move up. and then you start to feel like a warrior, because in the end, it's every man for himself. because maybe the stretch into the sky has to be a ruthless venture. because maybe when formulas and strategies fail and the ground is pulling us down, our only chance is to plow ahead towards some illusory bliss with all our bets on the table.