Dear March,

How are you? I've never thought about how you are doing. Though in retrospect, abstract ideas don't often think for themselves. I've been thinking a lot. I read The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas and it's really making me think. Would I stay? After all, ignorance is bliss. The eternal paradox remains.  Am I the suffering child? Is the child marginalized people? Would I walk away? I like to think that would be brave. I'd like to break the rules and try to help the child, but would it be worth it? How would the paradox fall apart? Walking away is taking the burden and becoming independent. I may fall there. What an interesting story. Omelas. I think we'd all join Omelas should it be offered to us, and few could deny it. March, I wonder what uncertainty comes next. We fear that which we do not understand, and I fear fear itself. Summer is coming. Summertime. I miss summer. I miss painless Marchs. I miss who I was and where I was. Maybe I am Omelas and I walked from myself. I seemed to know where I was going, but now I'm in an uncertain world. How strange. "Whether 'tis nobler in the mind..." Shakespeare said. Is this worth it? I certainly hope so. I'm in a wistful state of melancholy now, but it's salubrious. I'm in love and I'm going to be okay. Everything will be okay.