As I look out the window of the library, I see a vast expanse of nature, the kind people take for granted. I see a debilitated forest overgrown with kudzu and rolling hills covered in thorny, green bushes. But what I see is not what others see. They see the part of the country that I am in falling apart; they see it collapsing into unimportance. They see the only world I've ever known continuously declining from the fall of its textile industry.
I see these rolling hills, with sunlight gleaming off each kudzu leaf. I see spring buds blooming from the thorn bushes. I see birds wandering amongst the underbrush in the dilapidated forest, while a cool breeze circles above their heads and moves branches ever so slightly.
This world is not falling apart. It is always growing... Expanding... Developing. The red buds peaking out from the thickets tell me that.
This world is not falling apart.