Without the benefit of streetlights and the often endless rows of houses, the disoriented driver found it near impossible to discern roadway from embankment. Once off the roadway, only the tracks that led to this point were visible and they were fading fast.
One of the first inferiors to present itself was the voice of regret. If only he had; or had not. Not an entirely useless thought; regret. If used constructively one can learn from mistakes. If the moment is appropriate for regret, that is. Sometimes, what is done is done. As they say, no use in crying over spilt milk.
The second inferior to present itself, front and center and always at rigid attention, was fear. Fear brings with it a vacuum. A vacuum, that sucks out all available oxygen until thinking is slowed, the body tires and the desire to lie down becomes fear's cheering section.
The third to show itself was anger. Although fear of fear was an ever present oxymoron, anger was his greatest opponent. Regret could be rationalized. Fear subdued. Anger controlled itself. Once the genie was out of the bottle, Pandora's box opened, the shadow fully revealed, all bets were off.
War is hell.
Walking through blinding snow without the aid of headlights, any light, is stupid. People do do stupid things.
Looking outward for some signpost, some sign of a direction to pursue, began to show just how lost he had become. The time to harness the little buggers was at hand.
Fuck regret. No time for it here.
Fear? Kiss my ass.
Anger? Ah, something to sink one's teeth into.
As the warrior girds for battle, he checked his shoes, re-lacing his pants tightly into their tops. Tucked, tugged and pulled pants, shirt, coat and hat, tightly into place. Forming fists at the ready, he tucked in his chin and walked. He just walked. Knowing no other guidepost, he relied on his internal compass and hoped, based upon experience that his direction was true. Even if things were darker and less clear than at any point in his journey. He walked.
Anger was the fuel. Selfish, self serving, it is a dirty fiend that serves to fuel itself. Justified or unjustified. When in the rings, the gloves are off. He walked.
Anger dominated. Fear backed down. Regret was distant. No corner-man here. He walked.
There is daylight coming. There are clearer days ahead. No waiting for the bell signaling the end of the round, but waiting for the end. The end. Period! Whatever that means. Good or bad. Better or worse. In sickness or in health. He walked.
He is still walking....
One of the first inferiors to present itself was the voice of regret. If only he had; or had not. Not an entirely useless thought; regret. If used constructively one can learn from mistakes. If the moment is appropriate for regret, that is. Sometimes, what is done is done. As they say, no use in crying over spilt milk.
The second inferior to present itself, front and center and always at rigid attention, was fear. Fear brings with it a vacuum. A vacuum, that sucks out all available oxygen until thinking is slowed, the body tires and the desire to lie down becomes fear's cheering section.
The third to show itself was anger. Although fear of fear was an ever present oxymoron, anger was his greatest opponent. Regret could be rationalized. Fear subdued. Anger controlled itself. Once the genie was out of the bottle, Pandora's box opened, the shadow fully revealed, all bets were off.
War is hell.
Walking through blinding snow without the aid of headlights, any light, is stupid. People do do stupid things.
Looking outward for some signpost, some sign of a direction to pursue, began to show just how lost he had become. The time to harness the little buggers was at hand.
Fuck regret. No time for it here.
Fear? Kiss my ass.
Anger? Ah, something to sink one's teeth into.
As the warrior girds for battle, he checked his shoes, re-lacing his pants tightly into their tops. Tucked, tugged and pulled pants, shirt, coat and hat, tightly into place. Forming fists at the ready, he tucked in his chin and walked. He just walked. Knowing no other guidepost, he relied on his internal compass and hoped, based upon experience that his direction was true. Even if things were darker and less clear than at any point in his journey. He walked.
Anger was the fuel. Selfish, self serving, it is a dirty fiend that serves to fuel itself. Justified or unjustified. When in the rings, the gloves are off. He walked.
Anger dominated. Fear backed down. Regret was distant. No corner-man here. He walked.
There is daylight coming. There are clearer days ahead. No waiting for the bell signaling the end of the round, but waiting for the end. The end. Period! Whatever that means. Good or bad. Better or worse. In sickness or in health. He walked.
He is still walking....
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