The Crooked Path

Penny Wilson Writes

I've knocked my head against the wall until I bleed. This is what it took to get my attention. I seemed to take the hard way, the road less traveled. I've started my life over again many, many times. Started from scratch. From nothing. Each time a little further along this Crooked Path. I began as a lump of clay, cast into the mud along with the rest of the muck. I managed to crawl upon the shore and bake myself in the sun until I was cracked and bleeding. This is a process I repeated over and over again. I would then retreat back into the muck seeking the cool mud to soothe, only to realize that I must push myself up and out. At last, finding myself on the path, head up, shoulders back, I trudged forward tentatively, turning left when I should have turned right. Backing up…

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