I find myself at a crossroads, standing idly amongst the many options, feeling completely paralyzed and unable to focus. Each route enticing me with brightly colored, flashing billboards, touting their lists of glorious outcomes while the one road that I’m on flashes it’s own consistent sign warning me that those other outcomes are empty promises and that there is security in continuing to stay on route.
I stand here, wanting so for the road that I’m on to suddenly build it’s own brightly lit billboard with all the wonderful things I’m wishing for it to contain. I’ve spent a long and quite frustrating time wishing these things to fruition and I’m pretty certain that most of these things are never going to appear on this road. I’m becoming more certain every day that this road will always contain the same depressing scenes with the same status-quo experiences and if I stay on this road I am certain to come to the end of it and look back in regret at the options that I’ve passed up.
Life is never easy, and I’m not expecting my road to be full of roses, blue sparkling lakes with amazing mountains reflecting in them. I know I’m going to come across a desert on occasion, dry and void of color; and it’s going to be a struggle to stay hydrated as I find my way back to the sunlight. But it seems that the road I’m on is destined to continue through barren land.
If I were to leave this road, I would leave most of this barren land behind, but I would also be leaving a bag full of 33 years of existence behind me too, and that bag contains many things that I don’t know how to let go of. The bag is tied tightly in unsolvable knots around my waist, growing roots around me. Roots that are important and strong, but slowly starting to weigh me down.
So here I continue to stand, twiddling my thumbs while I wait for an epiphany.