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Journal Entry #652

It’s been about 400 years since my last journal entry, but I just can’t seem to move anywhere to get a decent shade to write down my thoughts. Maybe it is because I am the shade, my leaves and all. I love when children climb on my branches or play with the tire swing hanging from my highest arm. It might hurt a little bit, but when they shake my branches to annoy their little brothers or friends with leaves falling it makes me happy. I find it so strange how the bigger children just sit on the benches and watch the smaller children play. They move their mouths and make noise into some sort of plank that spits noise back out at them. Sometimes they get angry at the noise thats coming back at them and break that plank in half. It’s kind of scary to me: I wonder if they want to break me in half like they did to the smaller plank they can hold in their hands.

Most of my friends here that I share roots with have been chopped in half similar to how those bigger children would break the smaller planks. I wonder if they died, or if they just needed help moving to a better more light-filled location. I love it here, but I am surrounded by lots of high rectangles. They seem to house the bigger children, but it’s confusing to me how they could live in such a tiny space.

There are tiny boxes on circular thingies that spin that transport those bigger children from some place near me to some other place where I cannot follow them anymore. Oh how I wish I could move like those children to go see the world around me. Those bigger children act very weirdly though, they just don’t seem to have any fun during their day. They always seem to worry about something while they are near me sitting down on something. It seems as though those bigger children sometimes just bring the smaller children here so that they can get a break from whatever is happening in their life. I know I love the breaks I get when I get to go dormant in the winter. Life is still the boring, but nice usual. I sit here with my roots in the ground soaking up all the water I can and I make my food with the sky. It’s a simple life. And it isn’t much, but it’s mine.