Prolouge
The forest, a verb for a large area mainly covered with trees and vegetation. Forests cover about thirty percent of Earth. They are beautiful and unyielding. The only thing that can strike them down is mother nature and mankind.
There is something remarkably beautiful about them, it’s something I can’t get enough of. The way the branches move along with the wind, it’s a dance-like motion that seems to always put me in a trance. The way the trees look down at you from up above, like they are silently watching over you and giving you they’re protection, they’re shelter.
I have always had a strange connection towards the forest. I guess it was bound to happen, after all I was born in the woods. I guess I wasn’t expecting anything else when I was told. Mom was sort of a hippie. She always did as the winds wanted her to do, well that is what she always told me growing up.
I guess I grew up a bit different from other kids, you would expect me to with having no father figure. He left when I was around the age of three. I was told his name was Matthew, that was it. I had stopped trying to pry information out of my mother, after awhile I just gave up. There was a point in my life where I tried my hardest to figure out who I was, and to do that I thought I had needed to know who my father was. I was wrong.
I didn’t need to know who my father was. The only thing I would ever need was my mother. The one who always lent me a shoulder to cry on no matter the situation, the one who loved me when I was at my worst and the one who cheered me on at my best, the one who would always be there for me no matter what. It was for that reason why we had to move. It was because of me.
