the mess that's been made for the longest of times has us stuck. Tarred, you might say, to the spot. making it seemingly incapable to move. Sometimes it takes a lot of hard work to get rid of that muck, but after it's gone it feels so much better. Honestly, sometimes it's hopeless. It feels as though there's nothing to do but wait till it's all just passed. We try to get away, but we're stuck to the spot regardless. We're drug back to the same spot by the sticky, disgusting mess. It's nothing that can't be cleaned up, but once one's given up, it's difficult to find motivation.
Sigh
Leave the tar to the street people. They get paid to handle it. It's not your job to play with goo. Let it go, and get moving on the road.
I'm trying to. It gets easier every day.
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