I stare at rolling fields, watching the houses slip by. I look up at the mountains, noticing the warm tint on the trees that blanket them. It’s past 7 PM, one of the most beautiful times of the day in Vermont. I’m in the car, staring out at this beauty. It sinks in how glad I am to have moved here. It feels like every day I’m on vacation. I look out into the pretty sky, the grand mountains, the vast valleys. Beauty. Peace. Vermont.
It's quiet. Just the rumbling of the car. My friend is asleep next to me, their head on my shoulder. I open the windows. The breeze is nice and cool and rustles my hair. As soon as the window is open, it reveals the sound of crickets.
Dear Canada,
You do not belong to us.
You never have.
And I really, really hope you never will.
You are your own country, but I know I don’t have to tell you that.
You already know it.
What if
I could be a real actor
What if
It doesn't matter if my name sounds like a big-movie-star name?
What if I'm delusional?
What if I don't really care?
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