Not sure yet

It's only temporary, all of it. The good the bad the ugly. I expected loyalty, maybe even a little empathy and kindness.
Perspective isn't fair. It's dishonest and inaccurate. Your impression of me is off, I'll have to deal with that.
Why would I try to paint this picture? Not sure I could finish in time anyway. Existence is limited, why am I spending it in darkness.
If i'm lucky i'm half way through this journey, of everything thats been lost all I want is my time back.
The influence of this world is the poison in my story. The Villain creeps in speaking crazy expectations elevating my burden of responsibility.
It's fake, made up by the temporary norm that has made it's way through the chaos. It's echoed into the speakers of everything we own. Piercing our subconscious with a false narrative inviting us into the clutches of hate, anger and greed.
I'd like to leave. I don't want to be associated with this.
I choose to alter this path by clearing a narrow foot path into the trees. The bright green forest full of amber pine needles and the smell of maple. Chopping through the thorns with the blade I have sharpened for this purpose. Stopping every so often to hear the sounds of the natural order as I had dreamed about.
I have come to some damp leaves and sunk slightly into the soggy earth. Fuzzy moss heaps with sprinkles of mushrooms of so many colors, sizes, and shapes. The air is thicker, the moisture is heavy and the sight of murky still water scattered with lily pads lays before my damp leather boots. As far as I can see, the rich green moss mounds stand above the water level like mountains. The lily pads floating still as if stepping stones for the honking frogs to commute to and from each other.
It's the perfect place for my mind to rest, for my lungs to repair. I will build in the trees where no one can interrupt the secrecy of the peace I have found.