A tree, when planted on the ground, remains firmly rooted to the soil, unwilling to let go from its abode. From its humble beginnings as a little seed, it dealt with the acerbity of life, fought, and proudly grew and proved its preeminence overland. No matter how strong the winds, no matter how harsh the searing rays of sunlight, no matter how cold and bitter the darkness of the night, it has stood through all of them. All of them. A tree, after all, like anyone or anything else that has life, struggles to keep on holding onto it.

There are some things, that we, humans, have difficulty to holding on to. There are also some things that we cannot afford to hold on to. We become trees of our own, beings reluctant to let go of our personal feelings, solicitudes, and sentimentalities. Of our personal grudges. Of our personal pasts. Of our happy memories. And undying memories. We are afraid to let go, because, like the living tree, it is tormented when it is pulled out from the soil.

And we cultivate our own trees as well, within our hearts. Things that do not want to let go from us. No matter how much we want to forget about them, we simply could not do anything about it. They have been deeply rooted within the confines of our thoughts, actions, and emotions, that once we consciously - no, impetuously - uproot them, it becomes too painful for us. And that rips our lives into pieces, into nothingness.