"The Path in the Wood"

#0174. This is my autobiography, I tell her. She is uninterested in my details. Her pretty eyes do not look in my direction. I explain the path in the wood. She does not listen. The path, I tell her, is the treacherous route to self-fulfillment or to death. She knows, she mutters, staring at her painted nails. Please look at me, I say to her. Please validate what I am saying, I beg. She looks up with a profound sadness on her face. The path does not matter, she says, quietly. No matter what you do, it leads to the exact same place.