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Authentic footsteps

Did anyone warn me of the day I’d find myself walking- but not in my own footsteps? I think back and try to recall the time when my footsteps felt not tarnished. When was that time before the heartaches of lost love began to fray at my edges. I yearn to remember the purity that once I felt in living every single day. It came with the knowledge that no matter the situation, my choices would be made seamlessly. Back then I knew right from wrong with no question. that I would certainly steer clearly the right way. It all looked that simple.

I don’t remember when I first clouded up reality so badly that I plunged myself right into those grey areas. Was it little incremental decisions that took me off further and further into an area  from which I’d find myself closer and closer to the cliff  from which I would find the fall so very long and so very hard.

I remember the decisions I made when I first steered my marriages over the cliff. I had struggled near the precipice with fighting against the current. ANd once it felt that I was the only one who was fighting for us, the only one who cared where we were headed, then I let it go. I knew the moment I left go of the paddle. I was heart broken but I had been heartsick for so long that I felt it surely couldn’t hurt much worse. I was wrong. I would know depths of my failures so intensely that I felt I would be washed away in the pain.

WHat is it in the end that decides to where these feet of ours shall pass. COuld it be as simple as character, integrity, beliefs? Or is the answer more complex than that? DOes it matter what the cause as much as it should matter as as much as that it has been done or not done?

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