Crossroad

I'm standing on a crossroad. And there's a storm coming. The sand I'm standing on, will not stand the rain. And when right and left stopped being directions, I find that turning around is not an option. I cannot go backwards, cause even if i try to go back in time, I can't! believe me- I tried. The road in front of me, the one I'm on, feels funny even to my toes, and with every step I take, I enter deeper and deeper a life I do not own, A life I did not ask for. The rain may wash the paths away My name may be called from all possible directions, but not even the disorientation left behind from the flood, will shut the voice that's tearing down my throat up. Because even if I don't own a path to follow, I'll keep walking. Because sometimes walking between paths, is just creating an other. Sometimes walking with somebody else's feet is simpler, but ending up somewhere were you don't belong isn't. I did not get here to follow footsteps, but to have mine followed. With muddy knees and hurting feet, I'll get there. And if the storms decides not come, I will erase the fixed paths, maybe with water, maybe with tears. Because the only way to know I'm walking on the right path, is to make damn sure it's mine, and not someone else's. And yes- I might not know where I'm headed, but I'm sure I'll get there.