Maybe it’s the rain, that’s what you tell yourself when you start to to see the grey that seems to soften the footsteps on time that we all leave. You realize it’s not the rain but a growing anger that those footsteps are so easy to become complacent in. I guess that’s what we’re all searching for, comfort. Maybe that grey is the comfort, the reason so many are satisfied with following the footsteps that it left. I wonder if they’re as angry at that ghost as I am when they realize they just let go of his hand, that they’ve just been led along in life without allowing them to truly understand their interactions with the world.

I do know that I’m bitter at myself for following that ghost through the fog, for listening to its whispers that carried through the wind, but you can’t be bitter for the ones that won’t step freely. You’re walking without the guidance and that’s for you to do alone.

Walking backwards through my life I realized that’s how it always should’ve been. I came to the truth that being outside of that comfort was what I’ve always sought. With that realization all the anger and resentfulness of ignorance fell among my footsteps. Comfort is too powerful of a lure to be resentful of peoples inaction.