Life? She's a ball of contradictions. Sometimes she puts you in a yucky place, and you see yourself trudging down a narrow path. After each step you can feel your foot squeezing into this sickening softness; grimy, thick mud pushing through the little spaces between your toes, fighting to fill that minute gap underneath your toenails. Each step is heavy, painful, sticky.
Suddenly, when you least expect it, everything's cold, rimy, blue. You do not know what has happened, but you are now skating on thin ice. The icy wind brushes against your cheeks, messing up your hair as you dart around the skating rink. Exhilarating, thrilling fun. Your knees wobble still.
No matter what the surroundings are, be they cold, icky, blue, or brown, the strain is there, squeezing the same part of your back twenty four seven. You can't reach it with your hands, but it's there, and it does not go away. So, against it you persist through, through the miry and the frost of Life, all with the hope that you can lie your head down at the end of the journey, on that illusive place Life has made you think of and struggle for always.
