I hate it when people say they’ve been down the same road
Because they haven’t
Or maybe they have
But not in the same light
Not at the same time
Not as I traveled down that road did anyone accompany me.
I was alone.
No one knows how I saw it how it felt.
You’ve gone done that road during dusk.
Dusk. When all of the secrets slowly start to creep out.
I went at midnight. All of those secrets wide awake. Haunting and taunting.
Eating me alive.
She went at dawn.
Dawn. As the mask starts to come out, but the secrets have yet to disappear completely.
He went at noon.  The mask was now out. But there are cracks. Imperfections.
Places that not even the mask can hide away the secrets.
We all are so eager to tell one another about “that road”.
We’ve all “been down that road”, and want to tell our story.
But we mustn’t. Because there are people out there who need us more than we need ourselves.
People who have nothing and no one. Not a soul, a breath, a sliver of hope.
So yes.
We’ve all been down that road.
But that road wasn’t the same for any of us.
And it never will be.
-CsR