Turn around before it gets muddier

"I can't make it through that bog", you say as you begin to backtrack again. You turn around and start walking. After a few steps it gets very holey and dangerous looking again. "What the hell" you mumble as you turn and trudge for yet another time. More holes. And that's how you die. Never finding what you sought, never resting easy at night. Everything stays wet, nasty and dangerous. You suffer many pitfalls before dying, a dark, twisted, indifferent little cloud floating over your head, unseen yet vicious. You see, what YOU want doesn't really matter now, does it?