People hurry all in one direction. They know where they're going. Or at least they think they do. In fact, nobody knows. We're all heading towards a destination instilled in us, somewhere we can't deny. Sometimes we stop along the way and we wonder: "Is this the right direction for me? I think I want to turn around." But even if we do, we eventually end up where we once were. I told you. It's instilled in us.
We're all walking the same road towards the same destination. Some walk it faster others take their time, but the steps are the same. And we're all bearing the fruits of our lost love. The holes. Microscopic or not, they are all there. Pieces of us that were stolen by him and her and him again. For those we received in exchange patches of the ones who lost us. People who fell without us asking for it. And this is how we're all walking on the road towards It with holes and patches. Blind and ignorant. We couldn't move on if we wouldn't be like that.
Sometimes a scent reminds us of one of the holes and we sigh. But there's no going back after we pass the golden bridge. Just straight ahead. And it's funny how sometimes we feel like strangers in our own life. Strangers who walk and walk and walk... towards The Great Unknown. All following the same steps.
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