I feel badly after I walk over fresh snow, as if I have needlessly destroyed something beautiful.

There is a streetlamp directly outside my bedroom window. Every night for the last thirteen years, I have stared at this light as I fell asleep. I feel like it belongs to me. Who else can stake a claim to it? No one else loves it. If it was broken, I would surely fix it myself. It has been with me every night for thirteen years. That is 4749 nights. It belongs to me now. Anything that you love surely belongs to you. Please don't listen to anyone who tells you otherwise.



















In the mornings when I walk to school, I am able to pause on a very particular piece of sidewalk and see between to rooftops, to the mountains in the distance. If I wait ten minutes, the sun will begin to rise and the mountains will be backlit by an array of morning hues. I discovered this four years ago. I have never seen anyone else standing there. I feel like it is a secret thing which I have found, a treasure place which no one else knows about.