I’d rather be in an open field under a blanket of stars, with a cool gentle breeze caressing the skin on my face.
I’d rather be by a monsoon sea, staring as the waves crashed against the rocks, and the smell of salt brushed against my nose.
There are many places I’d rather be, places rather than this rat’s nest. Life void of empathy and feelings, but brimming with negativity and distress.
I’d rather be among tall grass by myself than with humans that are not being.
I’d rather hear the turbulence and thrashing of nature than the outburst and wails of angst.
One day rather, I’d be. Then maybe there won’t be any other rather bes.