One foot then the other

Does everyone go through the rigmarole of life, one foot in front of the other and only at 2am with a bottle of whiskey in front of them and their day behind them realise the futility of their existence.

Looking back 30 years to the Golden Age of their faded youth, the soundtrack of their loves blaring through the earbuds whilst pouring another golden inch.

Is this the reason for the Citalopram, the panic attacks, the hate and anger?

Or is it clearer than that?

30 wasted years regretting one day, not able to give fully ever again, not wanting to be hurt as much as that ever again. Easier to not care, comfort and familiarity over passion and danger.

Another evening of boredom and regret, looking forward to another day of ennui and familiarity.

Not enough passion to hate, not enough care to leave. One foot then the other into the future.

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