The routine of regret.

I am so tired.

I walk this road daily, it makes me feel the same everyday. Tired.

I walk, one foot following the other, in perfect precision. My thoughts climb the same mountain, telling my heart the same story with all the actions in chronological order. And at the same corner, I feel my tear stung eyes light up, I feel my soul accept its fate and I continue to walk home.

I am exhausted from drawing the same memory card from the same box. But the fatigue is nothing compared to the reminder.

Once there was a me without regret. Now regret is the only thing that I remember.

Home is a safer haven than the mind. I find a quiet place to breathe. I am exhausted from my conflicted thoughts. So I pack them away, neatly in their boxes in the storages rooms in my mind, for tomorrow...

... when I will wak down the same road and repeat this cycle.