I'm supposed to be writing here but sometimes I don't feel like writing.

It's odd when you look back down the trail you have come up and see it doesn't look the same as it did from the other end. Then you look ahead and wonder where the next part of the trail will lead you.
It seems that the trail never leads where you thought it would or passes the scenery you thought it should.

Children I knew are all grown, then I look in the mirror and I don't recognize the face looking back at me. I know it's mine, even if it's not truly me.