So I started walking again. Once more. Without heroism, without illusion, simply because there was no other choice. But this time… everything was worse. Everything was doubled. The fatigue. The weight. The burn in my muscles. The breath ripped away with each step. The world itself seemed to have thickened, become unlivable, as if it wanted to prove I had learned nothing, accepted nothing. Every movement was a negotiation with collapse. Every second, a fall narrowly avoided. But I moved forward anyway. Because falling… would have been worse.
With each step, I felt like I was moving through a hostile world, a world that didn't want me. As if the earth itself rejected me, forcing me to press down every foothold, every breath, to beg for my place on a path I hadn't chosen. I walked… like an intruder.
