TBA

This title pretty much sums up my existence in this moment.

You know the feeling, yes?

You feel you are at that crossroads yet the possible paths all blur together and you have no idea what they are. So in lieu of making an unknown choice, you choice to not make a choice, even though that is a choice in itself.

Well, I have decided to plonk my butt in the middle of the crossroads. Who says you have to choose a path? So whilst I sit here, watching the paths appear and disappear only to re-appear elsewhere, I feel a faint sense of taunting.

I am fed up of playing that game, ‘will she, wont she’, ‘is it, isn’t it’. It just gets to the point where you realise there is no right or wrong answer and the only way to win, is not to play.

The game is no longer fun, I am starting to wonder if it ever truly was meant to be a fun game rather more like some sadistic pass-time.

Fellow introverts will understand this more, when I say that all that I am comes from within (as much of my writing does), including what I perceive to be the reality I experience. As such, this butt-plonking of mine is what seems to have put every thing else on hold. As I have, in effect, but my Being on hold.

At first, I would be angry maybe even afraid of a choice, though I have been watching these paths in their steady, permanent internal fixtures for a while now. Maybe this is not about choosing a path, but realising I don’t need to. That these choices and paths are the illusions that now dance before my eyes.

The point of openness. The space of which anything can enter. With no limitation of choice or by path. The fact I am here, not the where I am.

I seem to have lost my compass, my drive, my passion that used to tell me which direction to head in and what path to take.

So I sit crossed legged, parked in the dead center, waiting for the paths to finally give in and die, starved now I no longer give them my energy by anxiety and fear over indecision.