An empty journal
22 years of forgotten memories
Again, I won’t remember today.
A missed exercise,
a forgotten goal,
Grit slipping through numb fingers.
I won’t pretend I’ll be able to return.
I feel asleep most days
Like I’m in a body made of clay.
I’m a stranger to the mirror.
Was it you who chose this path?
Is there such a thing, as a choice?
And how could you have known…
You were so wrong about me.
We have too much to lose,
it’s too far to turn back,
so we carry our selves deeper.

Lost in a misty mess of never ending vines,
carrying firewood,
I colapse,
giving up.
I cry to the world begging for a path,
I’ve been lost for four hours!
I finally begin back the way I came,
Only to find the trail 20 meters away.