Into the Woods, Looking out, Personal, prose
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On Ambivalence & The Paths In Between

A blue pair of shoes came in the mail today, though there will be no aisle to walk down.

Part of me recalls sooner times. Times when the air was thicker and there weren’t so many choices to take, and mistakes were absent in my mind. It isn’t until we start growing older that we realize what a treasure time was and how tentative it remains. I’ve tight-rope walked between two paths nearly my entire life, and I never made a decision to cross over, dedicate. I remained ambivalent, as so many do, out of fear, or maybe even a bit of arrogance. There were days when I woke up, not knowing who I was, now there are days when I wake up wondering who I could have been.


Yet still there will be the day that I don’t wake up at all and I look inside myself now and wonder if it all even mattered…. Wonder if my life was or will be relevant to someone in some way, or if it will just slip through the cracks like that dream that escapes your mind moments before you can flick it off your lips.

I have a job. I have a love. I have choices that I have made, but little conviction in them. Right and wrong are faltering terms, and I find myself living in a mist of grey area. I feel trapped in the freedoms I have, I feel consumed in the luxuries I live in, I covet the ideas of those who want for naught.

There are frustrations in self-discovery. I have spent years thinking of and working towards the person I was going to be, not the person I was at the time, and now I am lost at the person I am. I feel like I am beyond self-actualizing; beyond my own help… Sometimes. I feel I am in need of an institution; but also feel as though that would be a cop-out of my offer of strict clemency. I see a winding road up ahead, I don’t know where it goes to, I don’t know if I’ll fall trying to walk up. But I can make the choice to dust off my scraped knees, or tuck them in and close my eyes.


Maybe it’s the rain that brings these feelings out….this clean-cut nostalgia clouded by the steel-blue horizon.

Regardless, I can’t get started.

How do you cope with indecision?

Do you sit, heavy-hearted at the fork in the road. Or do you sprint, laces tangled, down the nearest path because it leads to anywhere but here?


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