I think shit up and write it down. I spent the first half of my life doing what Frost wouldn't do and went through the woods, between the roads. Sometimes touching on the busy path, other times touching the one less travelled. I've gotten bruised, I've gotten cuts, I've gotten a rash on my genitals from making in the bushes and here I am, at yet another fork. I'm older, I'm wiser, I'm looking at both paths again... Screw it! Through the woods I go.