Longing

I seem to have lost my way, for I have found myself in a barren wasteland. I must have zigged when I should have zagged, for I no longer know where I am. When I turn back there is no path to follow. How did I get here?

Where has my gravity gone? There are no strings on me, a puppet with no master. I am bound to nothing and to no one, there are no attachments tethering me to my station. Was I meant to float this entire time, a weightless being fluid in motion? That can’t be right, there must have been something before this. If only I could remember.

What grounded me to this plain before? The gravitational pull of existential crisis was all consuming once before, but now it no longer exists. The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. Where does one find the devil when he too has abandoned you?

I don’t belong here. Where was I meant to be? I live in a world created by monsters while surrounded by the cruel that fabricated the rules for this twisted game. Do you even see what I am talking about? If not, tell me what blinded you and how I too can lose my sight.

They say the path most traveled leads us tired horses to pasture. The exhaustion gathers along the trail, and that seeps into every pore and crevice within you. The adventure is meant to build character, resilience, and purpose. What happens to the horses that are led to pasture and they are just left tired, hungry, and alone? I can tell you what happens to them, although the plight will fall on deaf, uncaring ears.

They grow weaker and hungrier, for the journey was too much to bear. They search for food, but all you left them was rot. They wander in hopes of finding a companion because the loneliness is all-consuming. But alas, the others are worn down the same way you are. Words fail and gestures are few and far between. Keep your head down and continue wandering, you are alone in this.