For the past three-and-a-half years, I have been creating different works under the pen name, The Conscientious Observer, in short “The Observer”. Apart from being a character, The Observer was a storyline where I could look within and build basis to my thoughts. The earlier days of this storyline were rough both literarily and personally.

3 years and a week back from now, I wrote part one of “My Friend, The Forest,” to express how I could no longer bear the burden of life and writing. I was at the lowest I had ever been internally. It was hell on earth. And at the time of writing it, I never thought I would ever return to the pen again. I got back 5 months later lmfao.
The forest, for me, is my conscience. It was where I lived, and when I first addressed the forest (aka my conscience), I believed I had betrayed it. I felt homeless although I had a roof above me.

After writing, reciting, and recording this piece, I absolutely cut off all things writing for 5 full months, and even after getting back, I did not bother look back at this piece. But I always felt as though there was something I did not address, and that was the question I asked on the final part of part one of “My Friend the Forest”. And some months back, I decided it was time. And what fitting way to end a story?

These years have been awesome for me, as a person and a writer. It helped me define myself through writing, while at the same time, separating the part of me that writes to me as a person. I would like to express massive thanks to everyone who has followed me on this journey. መድኃኔአለም አብዝቶ ይስጣችሁ።

So, without further ado, I present to you the final piece to The Conscientious Observer’s 3-year storyline: My Friend the Forest, Part 2.