Thoughts of a tree

Do you know that I have long since forgotten how to laugh as if I was having fun? It may seem as a direct way of starting but I don’t know the meaning of “beginning “or “end” anymore. I don’t know when I start to pretend and when I am myself. I don’t remember how my real laugh sounds; I only know the sound of tears, dropping on the floor. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed nature the way it is without other black thoughts clouding my judgement.
I feel like an oak standing lonely on a hill. Birds come and go quickly like my happy moments. Clouds are always above the oak, but sometimes they are so black that you forget if its night or day. Squirrels that made home in its bark are always arguing, saying that the tree is not good enough. And of course, there are always the termites. These are the ones that never leave and destroy the tree inch by inch, making it die slowly. They make it suffer until the tree can’t defend itself anymore. I’ll let you figure out by yourself what people are these.
My bark is already cracking, and other trees, if they were in my situation, would fear and believe the end is coming soon for them. But not me. I adore life, and I believe in many things that others don’t and that’s what means “Think Pink”. And this oak hides the fact that, the special trees and animals that care for it, are the reason why this oak stands proud on top of the hill.