a/n:partly inspired by lord of the rings; i kept thinking of the ents while i was writing this. title is from of monsters and men.
I never had an imaginary friend, growing up. There was always some part of me that knew it was stupid, talking to something that's not there. What's the point in saying something if there's no one there to listen?
So I'd tell my secrets to the trees instead. Talking to the trees is different than talking to an imaginary friend. Just because they don't answer doesn't mean they're not listening.
I like to think that trees are full of secrets; that their roots are twisted with whispers and their bark soaked with quiet words. There's something comforting about it, knowing that you can tell a tree anything and it'll listen. You can read the promise in the branches, the oath in the veins that creep up the leaves: Tell me anything, for I will tell no one.
Trees always looked so wise, to me. Like they have all the knowledge in the world buried deep inside their strong trunks, hidden away in their dense, green foliage.
My best friend caught me talking to the oak outside our classroom one day during recess. She asked me what I was doing and laughed when I told her. "That doesn't even make sense, Jenn. Talking to a tree?" She patted my shoulder, smiled softly. "You could always just talk to me, you know?"
No, I'd thought, I can't. Who knows who you might tell? Who knows how you'd judge me? Who knows what you'd say?
That's the thing about talking to trees. You never have to worry about what they'll think or what they'll say. They won't ever say anything at all.