My head, like a patch of weeds has been tangled. The fod grows thick my head amongst the densest of parts. As life forges forward it chooses a path, that of life, or that of death. There I stood at the fork as I took to the left for the sign was missing and now, now I see I went the wrong way. Now, now I see I am destined to a life, one of pain and suffering less I can forge a path through the woods to the other side. I struggle to push my way through the woods leaving my body bleeding and mangled but I forge seeking salvation non the less. My hair becoming entwined, the pain as each step tugs my hair back increasing slightly with each step. If only I were to rewined, rewined all the way back to the fork to take to the right. But as I step back to admire my work I see a figure, a young fellow in his twenties, kind and friendly looking. "Can you lend me a hand?" I said calmly and winced as a lock of my hair was ripped out."Why is it you wish to cross?" he asked "I chose the wrong path and wish to live" I responded. He responded with the toungue of which would be used on a kindergatener and spoke wery slowly "The paths, however different vary minimaly in difficulty, a potatoe and an egg are in a pot of boiling water the potatoe softens and the egg hardens." I looked at him blankly "When did cooking rise to the topic?" I responded in a joking manor "Same circumstance different outcome for circumstance decides not of your fate but how you handle it one the other hand is the greatest variable." He responded diligently "Who are you anyway?" I asked " I... I am..." he began to respond
