I don’t like it.

“I don’t want to. Where’s Mummy?” I start kicking my boots on the stairs. Thump, thump. “We’re going to see her now.” Daddy’s putting on my red shoes, I don’t like these ones. They hurt my toes. “But Daddy, Mummy said I could wear my new butterfly boots if I was a good girl…and…and Nanny said I was good today. So can I wear my new boots with the pink butterflies?”

“You are a good girl, you are the best girl but I don’t know where the butterfly ones are. Please, Fiona we need to go, now.”

*

“Daddy look!” I’m jumping in the big puddle and making a big splash. I love the rain. “Fiona, look what you’ve done, you’ve got your new dress all dirty. What’s Mummy going to think? Get in the car, come on.” Daddy’s lifting me up, he smells funny. I can’t wait to tell Mummy about my splash. I miss Mummy. “Are we there yet? Daddy, are we there yet?”

“Yes Fiona. We’re here.” Daddy doesn’t sound right. I don’t like this place, the walls are white. I like rainbow colours. It smells funny. I don’t like it. “Remember what I said Fiona? Mummy is a little unwell, so go in and give her a big hug and your wee brother too.” Daddy lets go of my hand. I don’t like this room, it’s dark. I’m scared of the dark. I don’t like it.

“Hi Fi-Fi,” Mummy sounds funny, “come over here love, let me see you. I’ve missed you so much.” Daddy puts me on the bed. Mummy’s hugging me too tight. Why is she crying? I don’t like it. “Mummy it’s too tight, you’re hurting me.” She lets go, her face looks weird. “Oh I’m sorry…sorry.” She’s still crying, I don’t like it.  “Mummy, where is he? I wanna see him.” She isn’t looking at me. Daddy’s holding something. It’s too dark. I don’t like it. “Here he is.” Daddy gives Mummy the blanket, I can see a face, it doesn’t look right. I don’t want to look anymore.

“What’s wrong with him?” Mummy’s holding my hand too tight. “He was sick, Fiona. He was sick in Mummy’s belly. He..he has to go away to heaven. Remember Granda Joe? He got sick and went to heaven?” Now Daddy’s holding my hand too tight. “Well baby Daniel is going there too but first we have to say…goodbye” Daddy doesn’t sound right. I don’t like it.

“Give him a kiss.”

“No!”

“John. It’s OK. She doesn’t have to.” Daddy’s moving the blankets closer to me.

“I want to go home. I don’t like it here.” Daddy’s picking me up. He’s taking me away from Mummy and away from the blankets.

Blind Love.

“Do you trust me?” I could feel Eddie place the cool silk scarf tenderly across my eyes followed by a whisper of a kiss on the tip of my nose.

“Honestly? No.” Eddie’s deep, smooth chuckle followed. He has a laugh that erupts from his soul, only making the briefest of appearances, each one more precious than the last.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not lying,” I took a deep breath with both shoulders rising and falling in response, I felt Eddie place his warm hand at the bottom of my back with the other curling over my right shoulder. A familiar sensation ran from the crown of my head down my entire body. His touch always had that effect on me.

“I promise this will only bring you joy.” His voice sounds full, with happiness, excitement and something else, nerves? I better not open my eyes to a ring in a box and Eddie on one knee, I haven’t even told him my passcode yet.

“Just follow my lead. Step, step, step…” I instinctively reach my hand out to the bannister, my fingers gently rising and falling over the DIY paint job I attempted and failed about a month ago. ‘Too much paint.’ I could hear my father’s gravel filled voice, speaking in his ‘I-told-you-so’ manner. He was right to be fair. I hate that he was.

“Last step.” I could smell the pumpkin spice candle burning in the living room and something sweet from the kitchen. “What is that? Apple?” I ask with a sniff. “Yeah, I made an apple pie.” I could smell his mistake, “You put too much cinnamon in.” It was almost overwhelming, he could be a little overzealous when it came to baking. “I have not,” he protested. “You have, smells like your mums in here.”

“Don’t tell her that,” he said with that laugh again, so deep and warm, it wrapped around my body like a fresh towel. I could live in the depths of that laugh, bury myself in it. “Ok nearly there, just through this door.” I heard a bell ricochet through the room, followed by a firm and constant thumping and a mournful whine.

“Sit down,” Eddie’s footsteps became distant, my body yearned for the joy that had been radiating from him. I felt very cold and alone without him near. Then I heard it, click, click, click on the wooden floor followed by a weight on my lap.

“Oh my god,” I screamed. I forgot that I was still in darkness overcome with the joy I had been promised, with this warm bundle of fur jumping all over me. “He’s called Parker,” my eyes began blinking against the sunshine that flooded the room. As my eyes began to refocus I could see Eddie’s smiling face and a beautiful golden puppy.

“Thank god, I was half expecting a ring and you on one knee, ” I laughed. “Are you joking? I haven’t even told you my passcode yet,” he replied with that smooth as caramel chuckle, I so adore.

Broken

I sat down with my face to the window and away from her.

“Tell me everything.” I could hear her sharp intake of breath, her nervous giveaway. “I don’t know where to start,” she said. “At the beginning,” I replied, still looking out at our back garden, littered with the fallen petals of the cherry blossom we planted when we first moved in.

“Ok,” she took a deep breath, in preparation for what she had to say, “it was about four months ago, I met him through work,” I quickly glanced over to see her eyes where focused on the small rag nail she was twisting with, trying to avoid looking at me. “He was an artist and I…I…was given his exhibition to work on,” another deep breath,” Tommy you have to understand when I first met Malcolm I had no idea…”

“Wait, Malcolm? Malcolm Finnick?” I shouted as my head snapped towards her in utter confusion. “Yes,” she replied with her eyes firmly focused on the well worn kitchen tiles. “But I’ve met him before. I went to his show. I shook his hand. Had it already happened when I shook that bastard’s hand?” I shouted again, failing to remain calm.

“Yes,” her voice sounded small, I was fighting with my instinct to run to her side and comfort her with the hot white rage racing through my veins. “Go on,” I managed through gritted teeth while turning my head back towards the window. “I never wanted to hurt you Tommy, I need you to know that. What started between malc…” she stopped as my eyes darted to meet hers at the mention of his name,”between me and him was just friendship. He was kind to me, he listened to me, made me feel again. You must know Tommy that we have been broken for so long, I was just searching for a temporary fix, but it turned into something…more.” Those last three words pierced me so sharply I couldn’t stop the tears flowing down my face, each one leaving a perfect trace of her betrayal behind. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. And then I realised something that I foolishly missed before.

“Eloise,” it hurt my lips to speak her name but I continued, “how long have you been sleeping together?” She made no attempt to answer me but instead kept looking down at the floor. “Eloise, look at me. How long?” My anger was starting to leak out, “you told me it was only one time but I met him in July and that was nearly five months ago.” Still no reply. “Answer me Eloise! I deserve to know!” The rage I had been holding back exploded as my fist hit our kitchen table and Eloise jumped back into reality. “I deserve to know,” I repeated, this time almost pleading with her. She looked up from her own tear stained face, “since the first week I met him in June,” she finally confessed.

“I don’t understand, how could you do this to me? To us? After everything we’ve been through? After…Annie?” I struggled even to say her name, a pain that felt all too familiar to me. “You know Tommy. You must know. We’re broken.”

I stood and walked out of the front door for the last time.

Breaking.

“It was only one time, I swear.” I never knew that seven simple words could weave together seamlessly to cause me unbearable pain.

“Tommy, please look at me. You need to say something.” I could hear her voice start to shake but I couldn’t look at her. I knew as soon as I looked at Eloise, even a glance, my instinct would be to wrap my arms around her body, bring her close to my chest and tell her everything would be OK. The darkness gathering in the deepest pit of my stomach stopped me from turning to meet her gaze. I walked slowly to the front door and left. I could hear her getting up from the rocking chair my dad had made for us when Eloise was pregnant, her footsteps stopped close to the door.

In no time I was at the corner of our street. I could feel it bubbling through my body and up my throat. I always hated throwing up, there was something uncomfortable and a little frightening about it. I needed to get out of my head, her with him, him with her, her kissing him, him touching her.

Where am I? The ground felt soft and I could hear something. I started to follow the sound, the closer I got, I realised I was hearing branches breaking. I was too caught up in my own head I couldn’t feel the forceful winds pushing me forward. How did I end up here? I knew where I was as soon as I saw the willow tree. The weeping willow Eloise called it. This is her favourite place, it’s where we had our first kiss, I asked her to marry me by the river and she told me she was pregnant two summers ago. Thinking about her was bringing back the burning feeling and I couldn’t face throwing up again. I could still hear a violent, scratching noise. Looking up I could see it, the exposed bark, the thick branch breaking away. Trees don’t just start to break but this one seemed to be tearing itself apart. I moved closer, underneath the branches of the willow, into the belly of the beast. Leaves began falling, specks of gold and yellow passed by me, spiralling to the ground. Each narrow branch, which created this shelter above me, whipped aggressively back and forth against each other, like swords clashing together in attack.

How could she do this to us? It began to rain so I moved closer to the trunk, seeking protection from everything. I couldn’t get the image of them out of my mind. I could feel the hot fuel race through my body once more but this time it was attacking every nerve, every cell. An intense pressure began pulsating in my chest, racing, each beat felt like my heart was being pierced with an ice pick, cold and distant. I didn’t even notice the pain when my fist collided with the rough bark. I only noticed the blood on my hand when I wiped the tears from my eyes. The night we lost Annie was hard but this came pretty close.

Somehow I ended up at the front door. I don’t know how long I was gone or when it stopped raining. I stood there until the sun came up and the sky began to lighten. I could smell coffee as I opened the door and stepped inside.

Look through my eyes.

‘Life on Mars’- David Bowie

Anxiety is a scary thing. It is also a term thrown about everywhere these days. Maybe we are using words like anxiety and depression as a way to put a face to the demons we battle on a daily basis unjustly. Or maybe and very more likely people today are suffering and unlike older generations we are now encouraged to be outspoken about how we feel, guided towards understanding how to heal and why we have these issues in the first place. I am not a trained mental health professional but I do suffer from anxiety and paranoia, usually resulting in panic attacks among other things. I used to refer to these moments as my ‘dark days’ but now I understand them as anxiety driven. Over the past few months this has reached an all time high. Obviously anxiety effects people in different ways but my experience works a little like this;

I am sitting in a room full of people, friends, everyone I love and feel comfortable around. I know I’m safe. Then this dark, ominous cloud sets in over me. I am in my head but I don’t want to be there. I’m trapped, in a cage running from side to side, hurting myself hoping for any feeling other than this. I am falling deeper and deeper into a dark pit, hoping and fearing to hit the bottom. But I never reach it, I just keeping falling.

To everyone around me I seem normal enough, maybe they think I’ve gone a little quiet, maybe they think I’m rude or annoyed by something someone has said. In reality my brain is going into a blurred panic and all my energy is going into trying not to cry, controlling my breathing and heartbeat pleading with myself not to have a panic attack.

On the surface it looks like one thing but underneath, deep in my soul, I am in hell.

I should ask for help, I should explain what’s wrong. It’s just not that easy. Along with the anxiety comes the paranoia, while everything else is going on I’m fighting with myself trying to win a battle of thought.

They don’t care about you…no one wants to listen to you…no one gives a shit about you…you should’ve stayed at home alone…they’d be happier without you.

Just a snapshot of the bitch I can be to myself.

What comes next? I disappear, spend most of my time alone not because I want to but because I truly believe I have no other choice. I believe in my core that no one cares.

Eventually the cloud lifts, I can see the day and I start to get back to normal. Exercise helps, it really does get my balance back, I feel more stable. I start to do things I enjoy again, like writing which I haven’t done in close to a year. I had such a mental block, it was as if I knew it would help so I stayed away from it, self sabotage at its very best. Being around people is the key for me, laughing, talking, ridiculously having fun and listening to music from my 14 year old playlist (some Bowie, A LOT of Green Day).

Sometimes it gets so hard and I fall so far away from who I am that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get back but I always do, one song at a time.

Along came Polly.

Out of the black- Royal Blood

Paranoia is a very dangerous thing. I have begun to imagine it in the form of an evil Tinkerbell figure let’s call her paranoia Polly. I envisage her flying about inside my head whispering cruel suggestions, asking unanswerable questions, providing small ponderings that then bleed out through the rest of my body and consume me with an intense, negative and bizarre blanket of paranoia. For years this evil pixie has been my best friend and most trusted confidant, seeing other people in a way I never really could. She has always appeared wise and the only one that really truly was on my side. Over the last few years I have become a little bit more aware of Polly. I know she’s always there, I also understand that every thought and feeling is not completely my own. I am being spoon fed certain ideas from Polly. I have time and time again found myself looking at my friends and family, thinking that they hate me, they find me irritating and are all talking about me behind my back. This is a ridiculous way to think. I have definitely got some insecurities involving friendship and loyalty but Polly feed from my moments of low self esteem, creating a bubble of paranoia that I have lived in for far too long.

Over the last 6 months I have been able to pin point my early signs of heightened Paranoia, which usually starts up about a week before my period is due. Polly is never there by herself though she always brings a few others to the party. Debbie downer who I’m sure we all know and loathe always makes an appearance in the form of intense depressive moments of hopelessness. At my worst I have been stuck in bed lying down trying to take my mind off the ledge that my consciousness finds itself on. I am overcome with a sadness so filling that there is little space for any other emotion. I cry until I fall asleep then wake up still crying as if I had never stopped, just forcing myself to get up to eat is a struggle never mind trying to do anything else. 

Another member of Pollys squad is raging Rob, he’s just a bit of an asshole if I’m honest. Rob fuels my anger and rage. I have arguments and start yelling at people over things that don’t matter. Polly is never far from Robs side, keeping him strong with more and more reasons to be angry with people I care about. As quickly as the rage starts, it’s over and good old reliable Debbie is there to hit home how pointless I am. That is the three fucked up musketeers of my mental instability. 

After some research and talking with friends and family, making them aware that there was something going on with me that I didn’t understand I came across a possible diagnoses with the help of a friend. PMDD or Pre-Menstral Dysphoric Disorder, affects only 3-8% of menstrating women. Symptoms include but are not limited to:-

– Mood swings 

– Depression or feelings of hopelessness

– Intense anger and conflict with other people

– Tension, anxiety and irritability 

– Decreased interest in usual activities 

– Difficulty concentrating 

– Fatigue 

– Change in appetite 

Now that I have linked how I feel with a possible disorder I feel more in control of my emotions and mood swings when they are beyond normal. I can feel when it’s about to start and I have developed some coping mechanisms to calm me down, I get up and go outside even if it’s just walking my dog, I read or even something as simple as having a cup of tea and sitting with my friends. I sometimes have to force myself out of the house and around other people but once I’m there I almost immediately feel better for it. As long as I keep my mind and body busy I feel more in control. My mental health used to be something that I was insecure about and I was sure that  I was the only person in the world that felt the way I did but understanding what was going on and reading the symptoms in a list linked to a disorder instantly made me feel less alone and less crazy. 

I want other people to know that whatever you’re feeling is completely normal and there’s nothing ‘wrong’ with you. We are all struggling, day in day out but for me talking about what was going on was the only way I was able to find help and understanding. Your family, your friends and even your doctor are there to help you and they want to help. So all you have to do is let them. 

Moving forward

Declan Mckenna – Why Do You Feel So Down?
I am a little afraid these days. Afraid of the future, afraid of the past and afraid of today. I find it hard to admit my fears, i don’t want to look vulnerable. I want, I need to perpetuate only strength that I can take on the world and come out the other side as the best possible me. That’s not really how life works, is it? Fear shouldn’t be viewed as a weakness, surely being able to tackle fear head on without worrying about the consequences will only help us be who we need to be? 
I don’t know if what’s going on in my head is anxiety, fear or worry. Are these all the same thing? Is this normal? What even is normal? I have so many questions and no one seems to have any answers for me and it’s so frustrating. Everyone seems to have all of their shit together and heading in the right direction that life is supposed to go in and then there’s me just stuck in the same spot, unable to move. It’s almost like there is this club, the life club and everyone is a member and no one will tell me the secret password to get in which is just really unfair, it’s all bringing back painful memories of PE class. I don’t even think there is such a magical thing as ‘normal’ there can’t be, one persons normal is another persons weird or different or strange. I can break down the root of my fears into three sections the first is as follows;
The Future
I feel like I have no future, that this is it and that there’s no point in even trying for something else, I am afraid of failing before I’ve even started. I’ve never really committed to one future plan, people seem to grow up knowing what they want the end product of their life to look like and they aim everything towards achieving that. I have NO idea. Well at least that’s what I tell myself and every single person that asks me the oh so wonderful question- “So, Emily what is it exactly that you want to do?” Well, in an ideal world I would be a writer. Let’s just look a little closer at that sentence- “I WOULD be a writer”. Am I not already? I am writing now. Maybe the sentence should be “I would be a successful/published writer”. Again I have some confusion over this, I once told someone that I dream of making a living as a writer and they replied
“Stop right there, if you write with the mindset of making money then you’ll never make a good one.”
That one short reply has stuck with me, all 19 words and I think it’s held me back a little from pursuing my dream. This is my fault of course for letting some random guy (that I was typing to on a popular dating App) get to me. Everyone wants a job that makes them happy, writing makes me happy. I’m holding myself back from happiness because I have a serious fear of failure and rejection, I never put myself completely out there, I always keep a part of me hidden. This is my fear for the future, to try.
The Past
My past haunts me. I wouldn’t say I have any regrets, there’s no point you cant change anything. However sometimes I wish I could go back and change a few things. I am a daydreamer and not in the flighty thinking about unicorns and mermaids kind of way but more of a crippling fear, shame spiralling worry about things I cant change but desperately wish i could. I didn’t take university seriously enough, i didn’t grasp the many opportunities that lay before me, I wasted it. When I was in school, I was the worst kind of student, not the kind that went to the shops at lunchtime when they weren’t allowed or did there homework right before class, I was the other kind. I was the Hermionie Granger of school, annoyingly doing extra homework and my hand was permanently in the air, eager to answer every question in what i am sure was an aggravating know-it-all manner. All that changed when I went to university, I was like an animal let loose eagerly and greedily wanting to try everything and uni became something that just got in the way. Assignments where always handed in late, classes missed and lecturers ignored. By third year I began to try and scramble together all the fragments of information that I had picked up from the few classes I actually went to, i somehow passed. Barely. Now I cant do anything, I cant change it, its entirely my fault I cant blame anyone else and I hate it.
The Present
Day to day life fears are a cumulation of all of the above. Everyday is filled with the fear of being reminded of the past and the open ended question of the future. Right now I just feel a little hopeless and I don’t have a clue how to fix it. It’s like I’m just floating by waiting for someone to find me and help me. Life isn’t going to come together right in front of me tied up in a pretty little bow, I need to go out and do it myself but it’s hard. I don’t where to start I guess at the beginning. Ready, set GO! 

Running up that hill

Shakira– Whenever, Wherever

This is a lot harder than I thought it would be, putting down words. I haven’t written anything in such a long time and its affected me in ways I never thought it would, writing has always been a method of escape for me from things happening in my life, stress or anxiety. By stopping this therapy I’ve really impacted on my own mental stability, it’s made me really sad. But I am going to change that right now by starting fresh.

I want to write about a conversation I had with a close friend of mine a few months ago. Let me set the scene; we where in Cushendall, walking along the sea front and parked ourselves on a bench overlooking the water and cliffs either side. Something you should know about me, I love a good bench, I really appreciate a good view and a comfortable seat. There I was in my element sitting amongst my favourite parts of gods green earth and I found myself thinking about where I am supposed to be in life. Our discussion took some strange turns along the way but it basically revolved around how we as 20 somethings are viewed by our parents, by society and to a certain extent each other. When our parents where our age they were already on step four of the “This is how your life should go” handbook; get a job, get married, get a house and have a baby. Those were the clearly defined steps that their lives were bound to take. Now we live in a generation were there aren’t any steps, we’re kind of making it up as we go, trying to survive as best we can. I feel like I’m constantly trying to reach the top of the hill but I’m doing it without the steps my parents had and it’s so much harder walking up a hill without any steps.

I have a younger brother he’s 5 and I remember freaking out to my mum when he was around 2 1/2 about why he wasn’t speaking yet. I mean he wasn’t mute or anything he would throw out a couple words here and there but the majority of his conversation involved a lot of rather accurate animal noises. Strange I know but to be fair I’ve never met a smarter kid. At the time my mum said to me, with the wisdom only a mother can have, “will you calm down? He’ll get there when he gets there. Everyone’s different.” I feel like this works for me and so many of my friends. We’re all running around, stressing out, looking to others as the destination we should be at right now but it doesn’t work that way.

I might look like I’m falling apart to the outside world but I’m achieving more things within myself than anyone even knows. I’m alright. And you will be too.

To me, From me.

Catfish and the Bottlemen – The Balcony

Next month I will be home an entire year, 365 days and it doesn’t feel like I’ve achieved very much in 12 months. I’m still living at home (yippie its just so fun, she says sarcastically), I’m still in a job that isn’t what I want as a career, I’m still a single independent woman (this one I’m not too bothered out tbf, women are from venus men are from mars and all that) and most importantly I still have no clue what I want for myself in life. I am constantly being told that my 20s are supposed to be like this, about “finding myself”, spending time really trying to figure out what I want from life and who I want to be. What an utter pile of shite! The people that say these things are usually in their late 30s still trying to “find themselves” or they’re my age and completely set up in life and feel pity for me and my wayward ways resulting in them spouting complete bullshit that they think will make me feel better when in reality it causes the opposite effect. I can see the look in their eyes, weeping with unwanted sympathy and slight disdain with a curtained veined interest in what I have to say. My seemingly failed existence seems to put a bit of a downer on everyone else’s success. However I have some uplifting and sincere news for everyone, I’m alright, honestly it may seem like I have no future but trust me I do. I just don’t 100% know what it is yet but thats ok with me, so it should be ok with you too.

Another wonderful occurrence that starts to happen in your 20s is, if you’re single get used to all your paired off mates really wanting to set you up with all of their eligible male friends that are just perfect for you but for some reason they never actually went their themselves. I may complain about being single and dying alone but its just a bit, I am your novelty of a friend, that special attraction that can be brought out to make everyone laugh and feel better about themselves, I can poke fun at myself and deliver you some wonderful anecdotes about all my nightmare tinder experiences and about that time I was on a date without realising it but I don’t need you to “fix” me I’m good, really. Besides I don’t think I would know how to deal with being in a relationship, how do you look after a boyfriend? How often to they need to be walked and fed? Men baffle me, they really do. I’m not sure I would even know how to be a girlfriend, Jesus I don’t even know how to be an individual person never mind having to look after someone else.

Something that has  become most apparent this year is that I’ve lost a few friends, people that I thought cared about me but quickly became clear that some people just have their own self interest at heart and no matter how much I think that I’m helping I can’t stop the selfish acts of others and maybe I should be a little selfish myself sometimes. Life is too quick and fleeting to spend most of it trying to fit in with others and allowing for negativity to cloud your life experience. I try my best to surround myself with positivity and good people, in turn I am a happier person and this is all I could wish for.

My family also suffered a terrible loss this year, sort of my first real experience with grief in my adult life. Death is a strange thing, I’d never really consciously gone through the stages of grief before. Of course my family have been through some truly terrible losses but I have always been that little but too young to fully understand what was happening. However with this one everything was different, my emotions where well and truly up the left, I didn’t cry for two days then when I did everything just exploded one night and it was awful but strangely liberating and at the same time I was so unbelievably sad. A weight of heavy denial had been sitting on my chest and this sudden outburst of emotion lifted it. Of course I’m still sad, I try not to think about it too much because that bundle of sadness and grief is still there and it doesn’t take much for it to be opened up again but it gets better. I’m still trying to get over the guilt though, that I wasn’t there, that I didn’t get to say goodbye and a strange feeling that I don’t deserve to feel like this, as in I shouldn’t be this sad. It took me some time but Ive realised that only I know how I feel and most importantly I’m allowed to feel whatever way I want and that’s ok.

I have a message to myself this year, onwards and upwards my friend. Keep doing exactly what you’re doing, don’t let anyone tell you don’t look good in dungarees, eat that extra slice of pizza and spend that 20 quid on the perfect matte lipstick, fuck everyone else. You do you.

Do you?

Billie Marten- “La Lune”

I just don’t know.

I don’t know who I am supposed to be.

I don’t know who I want to be.

I don’t know who I need to be.

I wish I was eight years old again,

Playing, running, carefree, praying

to stay awake until the sun goes down.

Hoping for the sun to fall asleep before I do.

Now I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t tired.

Always working, not towards a future but to survive.

What’s the point?

Life is meant to be lived,

is it not?

I just don’t know,

will I ever?

Does anyone?

Or are we all wondering aimlessly along a wayward path,

hoping to stumble across some sort of meaning.

Who knows?

Do you?