In a matter of months my life has changed, taken a sharp turn on the gravel road
I could have sworn to you I would have never walked, and has been bound to infinite
travels upon it's painful path. I walk barefoot, feeling each of the pebbles, even the smallest ones, stabbing the skin of my feet still too sensitive to become accustomed to the pain that I've been feeling.

The voluminous leaves of the trees have fallen to the ground and been covered by endless bounties of rain. There are thunderstorms everywhere but on me, or maybe I'm just so drenched with the tears of angels that I can convince myself I am dry. Maybe that's why I haven't totally lost it.

November was promising, but fall was too short and soon the winter months sailed into my harbor and have not left since. Everyone is getting ready for spring and I am here trying to cover my body with more and more clothes so that I don't have to be cold anymore. But I cannot escape this feeling, no matter how many layers are on me.

I sometimes dream the road opens up and I can see the sunshine once again, but this has not happened yet and probably won't for a really long time. The amount of passerby's I have seen have all taught me to think twice before I trust my instinct from being lonely, because right now only one person has stayed and the other is slowly fading away in the thick fog that I leave behind me from my delicately painful steps.

I do not complain except to the one by my side, as I listen to all the others place their problems on my back, speaking from somewhere way off in the clouds. I still hear them and I wish I didn't because my own problems are enough to cover the earth around twice, because her problems melt to the core of our sphere and **** all of the heat out of it. But we both do not say a thing.

And so, we are left to walk on. Alone and by ourselves.