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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Standing there as a child, face-to-face with myself as an elderly man at the end of the road, I looked into the eyes of my younger self and remembered what it was like when the road had yet to be traveled. I began reminiscing, wondering what that long, dark road held that eventually built a statue of hate inside my heart. There was no love left. My heart had grown cold. I stood beaten down, gray hair covering my head, wrinkles displaying every year across my face. My clothes were torn and drenched in sweat from the countless miles I had traveled. My younger self looked at me with tears filling his eyes. "This can't be me," he whispered. "I have my whole life planned out. I made a list of everything I'm going to become. "But looking at you gives me a completely different view. "What happened to you? How did you end up looking so broken? I'm confused." The older me lowered his head. "I remember the plans you made for us. "Life started out sweet and beautiful. You had dreams, ambition, and a future you thought you understood. "But when you left for college, the road began to change. "The parties and distractions became the first bumps I remember. What began as the excitement of college life slowly became a dilemma. "Your education slipped away until eventually you dropped out and found yourself doing nothing. "Life took another turn when you moved back home, carrying the embarrassment of feeling like you had failed. "You felt alone. "Your parents didn't understand what was happening inside your mind. Their words felt more degrading than comforting while hopelessness kept you planted in the same place. "Eventually, they had enough. "The message was simple: "You had to leave the comfort of your safety net and step back into reality. "That was when the real road began. "It was hard. It was unforgiving. And every mile seemed longer than the one before it. "I searched for anything that could make me feel untouchable, anything that could silence the pressure inside my mind. "Life became a seesaw— one moment I was up, the next I was crashing down. "Reality became distorted. Paranoia followed my footsteps, but time refused to stop for me. "I eventually reached a point where I knew something had to change. "So I kept traveling. "Mile after mile. Year after year. "Until one day, the road brought me here." The young boy stared at the old man standing before him. Then he quietly asked, "Where did you come from?" The elderly man looked beyond him, toward the beginning of the road he had spent a lifetime traveling. A tear rolled down his weathered face. "I came from where you're going," he said. "But now I'm heading back to where it all began— not to change who you are, but to teach you about the pain before you have to learn it the way I did." And for the first time, the young boy understood: The old man wasn't standing at the end of the road. He had traveled all the way back to the beginning.
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