Grey areas like a giant black vortex, ******* in everything; nothing can be classified as right or wrong. I turn away, sobbing, and you kiss me on the cheek, as if everything will be okay. It will not be okay, so long as I’ve tangled myself in this web of indecision; this chasm between what is right and what is wrong. I imagine the *****, burning it’s way down my throat; my esophagus has turned to ash without my consent. I’m in a dark place, and I can’t find the light switch.