i love all zombies, except the one inside me

this concealing thicket offers the secrecy i've longed for. the deeper i travel into the dense maze of trees, the more isolated i become. and while isolation may not be the best survival strategy, i have learned to adapt. i build a wall of urgency in mind to avoid the thoughts that come with solitude. i'm constantly checking over my shoulder, keeping my ears tuned in for anything that might force me into a confrontation with the trail i plunged into the forest to escape in the first place. my stubborn resolve and fixated focus are almost enough, but not quite. everywhere i look i see them, signs that point me back to the path you walk, the one i forsook when i took to the trees. trails of blood left behind by those that were dragged away from the forest. and then the pools of the same blood where they gave up hope and waited for you to take what was left. broken branches where someone miscalculated their retreat. torn garments strewn about, signaling ultimate defeat. all these point back to you and all lead in the direction of your path. some wander lost between the trees with no knowledge of you or the path. all they know is this dark realm and the web of branches and thorns that hems them in. all they know is day to day subsistence. i am perplexed by their ignorance when i see the abundance of proof that you exist outside of this wilderness. but unlike them i have seen and walked your path, i've even heard your voice. and from them all i run. i am the lowest of all these desperate creatures for i know your path but chose not to keep it. instead i scavenge through the overgrowth frantically feasting on anything that can keep this unsustainable cycle alive. i have never fully lost my way back but i fear that if i do not turn back soon i will forget. i will forget that it is this decay at my very core that forces me to find your path. i will forget that it is this sorrow inside of me that seeks out your soothing song. i will forget that this hopelessness is my compass. i will forget that all this desolation has a purpose. how long will i toil in these shadows entertaining ghosts? will i seek the timberline or will i weave my life around these roots and anchor in?