I have learned some important techniques in this fight for survival, but I still feel as if it is not me learning this. My farm is made of bricks, I wanted wood. The more time I spend in this immense world of blocks, the more I feel as if I am not making my own decisions. Steve Farms is the name of my current home, or so the sign reads next to the main gate. Weeks later, I am here, in a place that has a prodigious amount of land extending for miles. I am far from departed now, I tried not looking back at Mr.Cow as I departed, but my head was fixed forward, as if I was unable to turn back even if I wanted to. Mr.Cow is my favorite companion, he always knows what to say, and when to say it. The animals keep me company in this journey to insanity, for I am alone. It is almost impossible to leave, because everything in this island is colorful, the trees are bright green, and the flowers could form a rainbow with all their different colors. I am aware that escaping is my only choice. The size of the island is so limited, I will last no more than a few days here. This measly island is fascinating, it is rich in apple trees that drop saplings daily, which is why I know trees prevail any other plant in this place. Wood allowed a boat to be built, and allowed for a two day voyage I am soon to embark on. Trees, animals, sand, and dirt were the only materials available, and the only ones needed to achieve freedom. A prison where the only prisoners are nature and I. For vast miles, it is seen through the top of the tallest tree that, in every direction, ocean borders the land.
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