Dances with Wolves

Alone, stuck in the woods with mystic trees as my only form of company. Despite their grandiosity and splendor, they will eventually rot and perish. Once I walked a straight path laden with hand crafted brick. An unsaid given that the road will lead to my destination my mind drifts to the fantasy of the destination. Eventually the dark forest I wandered into stopped me dead in my tracks. I found myself standing on jagged life event rocks that hurt my feet instead of the smooth laden foot path I was on.

The great oaks of society, knowing far too well I am lost mock me with familiarity. Howls of the of the wolves of the past pierce the night air. Panic forces me to dash through the woods. Life’s branches trip me up but I only sustain a few light bruises. Lifting my head from the fall I see bushes laden with luscious berries. Famished with thirst and hunger I bend down and pluck a cluster. Hunger ceases to be and a warm sensation overcomes me; I do not feel lost, panicky or fearful. Morning dispels the night, illuminates a path that must lead. Emboldened, I head down the path basking in the rays of sunshine.
Strolling down the path with my new felt confidence I notice the onset of sunset.

The veil of darkness begins to draw over the radiant sun. The crimson sky predicts what is to come; Fear. The shadows of wolfs dance between the trees, howling a narrative of the past. Blood runs down my legs as I run through thorns that once were branches only to find myself screeching to a halt at the sight of luscious berries beckoning to be tasted. Already savoring the release in my mouth, I snatch more than I did the first time to make sure the desired effect remains constant. With the trail illuminated once again, I confidently stride down devoid of nerves.


It does not last. As the story repeats itself the reprisal grows beyond brutal. I glimpse the vile wolves from the corner of my eye. Running over blades that at one time were thorns, I bleed profusely. No longer seeking the pathway, I seek only the means to it; the fix. More berries, better berries is the only way to survive this hell.


Clutching my chest after the last bout I fall down on the once inviting road; now teeming with jagged stones. A pack of wolf’s tear at my body, their sharp claws eviscerating whatever hope there was to find my path. Lying there waiting for the final kiss of death I feel no fear; I welcome it. Let the final stroke release me from this perpetual labyrinth. It does not come; the wolves just leave my mauled body to wither in obscurity. Rock Bottom is not a pleasant place.


I know these berries are poisonous but I often failed to believe it. It was the only method I knew to forge my way through the chaos. Deluded by perception of the path shown from continued use was the real path; I offered my hollow promises and set on the chase again. I heard once the definition of insanity is doing the same thing twice expecting a different result.
Sobriety does not change the unsettling feeling of being lost. It does not silence the wolves, or injuries sustained from life’s hurdles. It does provide a compass that leads to the road of success that always was there from the beginning.

These tools provide a way to cope with life while in tandem with a sense of direction and purpose. It is scary and difficult to tear myself from the allure of the illusion, but it provides its own allure of a real sense of comfort and control. I do not need to stay lost, and I do not need to need to run. I can navigate the dark forest with my flame of light anticipating the morning I once never thought would com

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