I haven’t talked to myself lately.

I feel like I have not really talked to myself lately; of course, I didn't have the time, or to be honest, I was just fed up with talking about my problems. My issues and my time on this planet. I wonder who this planet is for. Does anyone feel at home here? Does the climate feel fine anywhere anymore?

I hardly think we can feel the temperature every day and call it perfect. There is no such temperature, and the places where forever spring used to be a thing feel like a thing of the past now. Every place is recording record temperature. Sometimes it's too cold or too hot or too wet. The weather is on cocaine, and it's getting more and more on edge.

The world too is getting more and more extreme; there are talks of war or chaos and misinformation looting our minds from reality. I wonder where can we finish when we are at the edge of the fray. Where shall we set our foot to sigh and say we are here, forever in the shade on a sunstroke day? Where the beauty of spring shall not only encompass our past but the world we want to see.

I miss that world, and I miss it more because I want to talk to myself again in this world of extremes; I cannot talk to myself anymore because my soul is always farther and farther from the uncomfortable existence felt through flesh. I cannot regain control because control is an excuse. It's not really something I can exercise. I wait for that day when I may become a soul again. A soul shining through all my existence and lose all control knowing full well its going to be okay.