Walking down the wrong path

It is 5.58 am and surely not the sanest hour to go on an esoteric overdrive. But, when has desire to express your mind been a dependent function of time.
And hence I write, inspired by an intriguing 4-hour conversation that’s not only kept me sleepless, but also awakened me to a new tangent of thought.
Is there something called a wrong path? Are right paths with wrong destinations any different?
They would have me believe that it’s not worth walking down either of the two barrels. Is the destination paramount? Does the experience of taking a walk down the wrong lane constitute regret?
Life always gives us two choices – one to subscribe to predictive behaviour, the other to be a rebel. I am a rebel of sorts. I choose to walk in wrong lanes, but not at the risk of trespassing.
Some of the most beautiful lanes have a point of divergence. I am walking down one of those paths, not alone, and it is a fascinating experience. Now, I see a point of divergence; was my path wrong only because it ends in separation.
What about the memories we made in the excursion down the lane? What about the whispers echoed on way to separation, what about those smiles we shared, the compliments we exchanged and the memories we created? Do they get divorced too at the point of inflexion?
Sticking to a path that leads you there is stereotypical, treading a path that leads you somewhere is exploratory. I am an explorer.
“Don’t walk down the wrong path. It’s not worth it!” they say. It’s better to walk down the aisle aware of consequences, than stand stationary at the edge as a preventive gesture. I am in the inertia of motion and I can’t stop walking. Let me trust the momentum to take me the distance.