The Clumsy Way Back

Alright, let me unpack the foggy city I just wandered through. My feet feel like they’re stuck in someone else’s shoes, but I have to keep moving because my pulse races, like a drum with no one to kick. The air smells like old books and regret, and I can’t help but notice how everyone avoids looking at me. I kept thinking, 'What if I just stop?' No, that’s too clean, too planned. Instead, I wandered until my legs gave out, followed by a barista who gave me a latte with extra foam. It was messy, chaotic, and in a way I probably wish I’d never been here. That’s when I realized nothing matters more than not moving forward properly. I’m stuck between two choices: rush or stay, but I’ll just leave my bag here, hoping someone finds it later.