Kafkaesque Handwritings: Lost in the lonely forests: 26-year-old Me

wish there was a tree somewhere in the world under which you could heal your heart. I wish there was a place where you could catch the light in your palm and shine it on yourself, to be brighter and warmer, so that the world would be forced to see you, but that tree is nowhere to be found and I have forgotten the light. I have been lost in a cold and melancholy forest for years, and the old and dry branches of trees constantly scratch my soul, heart, and body. And every time I think I have found a greener tree or a shadow, I find ropes hanging from its branches, ready to hang me like my comrades.