Fix Me Forest

The world around me feels foggy. Cold air nips at my cheeks, and every breath I take smothers my face. Trees loom over me in every direction, tangled with vines that remind me of veins on a brain. In the corner of my eyes, I see something sparkle against the darkness of the night. When I turn around, I see three paths. The first path is covered in glamorous, sharp diamonds. In front of it is a fishing net that says 'Fill me up.' I reluctantly walk past it, thinking, not everyone is made to shine bright like a diamond. The second path is a wooden rope bridge with a wooden plank floor spanning a deep canyon. I’m afraid of heights. The tallest trees I’ve ever seen shoot up from the canyon. The third path goes underground, which appears to be the safest option. I always hide from and ignore my problems. Secretly, I fear being overshadowed and forgotten, longing to be seen, yet terrified of standing out. Apparently, fate felt like that was an easy way out because soon I am forced to confront something. Suddenly, an unknown force makes me fall onto the bridge. It feels like I’ve been thrown into a cold lake. My muscles clench before I jump up to run off the bridge, but an invisible wall stops me. It feels like time is in a frenzy, and I start to get tunnel vision. The air starts smelling like honey and thunder. I hear a voice behind me. Shakily, I turn around while trying not to look down, but nobody's there.

“Down here.” A voice says gruffly. It’s a turtle with a smell gleaming like sunlight caught in amber. For a moment, I don’t say anything. My body stays frozen. He continues talking, “My name is Gold.” For a few moments, the talking turtle makes me forget that one misstep will have me plummeting to my death.

“That’s a bit on the nose, don’t you think?” I hesitantly ask. The turtle shoots a look at me before motioning me to follow. Reluctantly, I start to trudge across the bridge. The freakishly tall trees seem to close in on me. If I fall, I will never see the stars again. He ignores me, which is probably for the best. I’m not trying to start something.

“You’re carrying something heavy.” Gold says out of the blue. My fingers tighten around the itchy rope railings. Things feel suspicious. The atmosphere and everything in it feel oddly tuned in to my feelings, and the wind picks up. It feels like it’s trying to blow something loose from inside. My throat feels like it’s clogged with a stone. I swallow and wait a few moments before responding.

I blink. All I can think to say is “What?” The bridge creaks under my shifting weight. My knees buckle when the rope starts swaying. The turtle's face never changes, as if there is truly no wrong answer. That doesn’t make me feel less uncomfortable. I’m actually looking at everything but Gold, even down the canyon. The only thing that competes with my fear of heights is my social anxiety.

“Not in your hands. In your chest,” Gold says softly, yet it lands like a stone dropped in water. Gold looks at me with eyes that seemed dull and lifeless, but at the same time empathetic and kind. Words felt trapped in my throat like a dam holding back a flood. At the same time, there were no words at all. My breath is shallow, as if the air has turned to syrup. The forest seems to hold its breath in anticipation.

I hesitate. Silence hangs in the air like how my arms hang awkwardly by my side. “I guess… I’ve been feeling weird. My friend—I’s just… everyone loves her. People always surround her. I feel like I disappear next to her.” The turtle nods slowly, then begins to walk along the bridge. I follow the ropes groaning beneath our steps.

The turtle paused mid-step, his golden shell catching the light like a lantern in fog. “She’s the one people turn to when they’re lost, makes people feel seen, right?” I felt the bridge sway beneath me, the ropes creaking like old bones. The wind tugged at my sleeves, and I thought of North. People have always seemed drawn to her. How she never had to chase anyone; they just came. He continues, “She shines bright. People look to her. They follow her. It’s easy to see.”

I frown, “I’m jealous.” Admitting to being jealous makes my stomach tighten. I want to keep my emotions in check. It’s not her fault I’m insecure. I always try to brush it off, but the thoughts loop: Why not me? Why is it always her? I stare down at the trees. They look ancient. Wise.

Gold says, "In a galaxy of stars, you are a tree. Rooted deep. Growing slowly and offering shade. You don’t dazzle from afar. But you hold life. You are a home." I feel something shift inside me, like a knot loosening. As I walk, I start to ponder Gold's words. What does it mean to be a tree in a world filled with stars? I realize that being a tree means finding strength in my own roots, offering support and warmth to those close to me. I start to understand its not about how many see me. It’s about how deeply I’m seen by those who do. Gold continues talking, "Jealousy is forgetting your own kind of light. You don’t need to be seen by everyone. You need to be felt by the right ones." I open my mouth to respond, but the turtle is already walking ahead, his shell glowing brighter with each step.

The last thing I hear him say is, “Grow tall. Be patient. The forest needs you.” And then—just like that—he’s gone. I stand alone on the rope bridge. The newfound emptiness swallows me, but not in a bad way. I start to reflect on what the turtle told me. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he isn't, but life might be a little easier if I believed him. Somewhere far off, I hear a shout. The rope bridge suddenly disappears, and I find myself falling down the canyon. Branches flash in my eyes the whole way down. I looked up at the sky. The North Star blinked steadily above the horizon, but I didn’t feel small anymore. I felt… rooted. Like I belonged to something.

Everything goes dark when I hear a voice call out. My eyes shoot open. When did I fall asleep? I'm in math class. My seat rests next to the AC, which is on blast. The teacher's eyes are almost as biting as the cold rush of air on my skin. I must have been dreaming. This is embarrassing. The judgmental stares of my classmates tower over me. However, it no longer bothers me. I realize all I need is my friend North. She's a star in everyone's eyes, and I have many friends, but that doesn't mean I need to be jealous. I need to accept myself for who I am and learn from this experience. Like a tree, I'll grow toward the stars and trust them to reach back with their light. Something inside of me untangles. I am renewed. I'm officially out of the woods. As the teacher calls on me to solve a math problem on the board, I rise calmly and walk to the front of the classroom. My hand moves confidently across the board. Faces watch me—some surprised, some indifferent—but now I can see beyond them. Returning to my desk, North gives me a reassuring nod. From this moment on, I laugh more easily and feel more comfortable with who I am.