You are running barefoot.
The marsh is devoid of life other than yours. You feel the cold dew from the grass, the moist dirt beneath you as you haste towards nowhere.
You keep on running. You don’t stop to catch your breath as it can be your last one. You are running for survival.
Then you feel a piercing pain on your left foot. You find yourself on a thorny path but you cannot gamble stopping. Then you feel it on your right. You are slowing down. Now you worry of falling. You cannot stop to check your feet but you know you are bleeding. The pain was excruciating. But stopping would mean your end.
Slowing down. You gather enough strength to leave the perilous path. The night does not allow you to see the terrain well. You stepped off a ravine and fell to your death.
You wake up sweating and chasing your breath. Cheeks wet from tears, you gather yourself out of bed and prepare for work.

This is life. Yours.

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theuglywriter is like water. Put water into cup. Water takes the shape of the cup. Put water into bottle. Water takes the shape of an effin bottle.
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