My indecision is neatly stacked in lines along the walls.
It circles towards the center.
There is no drain in the middle of the sunken floor.
But by the way gravity seems to pull the endless stacks of papers along the walls, you would think the room was liquid.
You would easily be convinced that indecision is fluid.
I would say that I am torn, but truth be told, I am not.
I am simply sitting calmly in the space between two paths.
Some tell me I should trod where nobody ever has.
Others seem to think that I should pretend to be water,
Blend with my indecision, and just go with the flow.
And then there is the second pathway,
I would think it would be the opposite of trailblazing -
but that is where i stand in indecision.
No, the other path is also a path of resistance.
But not for the difficulty of the path.
This is the place where i must choose to chase the other shipwrecks,
or to head to the shore.
This is where i must either allow myself to be healed, accept the healing, move on, embrace my new life - or where i hold onto the chemicals - where i hold onto the emotions - where i hold onto the rush, the rollercoaster, the addictions -
where I , ironically, am met with the choice to define the value of my experiences
in terms of their unpredictability and the lack of wisdom and safety among them
or to choose wisely, disallow myself to continue in that which will further destroy me,
I have been empty, Now i must be filled.