Lost in the mist…

figures lost in the mist

I’ve been a bit lost recently.

Not the ‘manfully driving around tiny country lanes refusing to ask for directions’ or ‘wandering around the local Lidl licking fridge windows’ kind of lost but the listless, lacklustre, (alliteration ridden) lost of the middle-aged, middle-class man. A man in the middle of his life, struggling between the sweet dreams of ambition and the painfully setting concrete of reality.

Is this ‘The Crossroads’ that they sing about? Am I standing on a dusty intersection in Buttfuck Idaho playing a beat up guitar hoping that a demonic venture capitalist will snap my soul up after they spot it on Instagram? Is this the beginning of the end and therefore the end of the beginning? Am I at a junction with choices or have I arrived? Destination: Middle Of The Road.
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