She was walking along a somewhat familiar path, well known and well worn, one she's been using for the past 6 months or so without fail. Suddenly, an arrow, unseen and unheard swishes swiftly by her right ear, narrowly missing her by a fraction of an inch and lands neatly into a pile of wood, quivering slightly due to inertia.
She turns, surprised, and sees a familiar face. "Why are you using that path? he asks.
Eyebrows raised slightly, she answers "This is the path. I've been using it all this while"
"Well, it's wrong" he says. "You're supposed to use that path" he continues, pointing towards a different path. To her it looked like what once used to be a path. It was now all covered in brambles.
He walks away, slowly. Before he disappears completely from view, he turns to her and says. "Remember, use this path the next time"
She nods her head acknowledging agreement despite somewhat skeptically. Why does *life seem like the simulation of being stuck in the middle of a field of a particularly **nasty rugby game?
* Well, not life per se, but a very rough representation of it
** Not that rugby games are nasty, but you know how it always seems to be muddy in some sort of way, and there's people all over, grappling, trying to lay their hands on the elusive rugby ball, and you're all alone in the middle of that!
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