You Can't Outrun Your Own Mind

The cabin stood silent in the Massachusetts woods. No neighbors within shouting distance. No carriages rattling past. Just towering pines and the gentle lap of water against the shore.

He had built it himself with his own hands. Ten feet by fifteen feet of pure sanctuary. Here, finally, he could escape the noise and chaos of town life. The business dealings. The social obligations. The endless chatter that filled his days.

This was his experiment. Simple living. Self-reliance. A return to what truly mattered.

On his first night, he lay on his narrow cot and listened to the forest. An owl called from across the pond. Wind rustled through branches. These were the sounds of peace, surely.

But as darkness deepened, familiar anxieties crept in. Would his writing find an audience? Was he wasting his life on this foolish endeavor? The same worries that plagued him in town now visited him in the wilderness.