Unidentified Path

I'm not sure which road to take. I'm ultimately stuck at a crossroads, blocked by thoughts that desire both directions; doubt floods my body with a despair so familiar. Two options, one to be decided this summer and one to be decided should the opportunity present itself, yet which tugs at my heart more? The complexity of the contemplation shatters my mind into a million different pieces, each analyzing the outcomes with a different perspective, a different scenario to depict the life that could be lived.

The past few days have been absolutely remarkable, but for how long shall they last? Am I just an option or are there others too? If so, run the race or walk off the track, head held high? These are the unrelenting, the incredulous questions that my conscience insists on overanalyzing, but I know that these doubts will get me  nowhere I want to be, especially considering what has happened in the past. I recall making an Instagram picture today, the photo was my own, but the quote wasn't. To me the quote said something about where I want to go with my life, while sort of teaching me a lesson; live the present moment.

As for the other option, I feel that I have enough time decide whether or not I want to follow through with it; however, given the time frame seems long, it will be here in the blink of an eye.

I don't have much competition in me nor do I know where I want to end up, but this clearly outlines the brilliance of life; our destinies aren't predetermined, nor can we control them as we see fit. One can only hope that what one desires turns out the way one wants it to.

Learn from yesterday, live for today and ultimately hope for tomorrow.

Deeply Rooted Fear

It's been a while since I have felt the way I feel now. Something about the voice that is spoken pricks my insides with a residual feeling, a somewhat painful feeling that reemerges after being buried for so long; butterflies take flight, wings dusty from the hibernation in the deepest of shadows. Are they good? Are they the kind that will release my inhibitions and carry me to happier days? Are they bad? A relentless force that will gnaw at the tenderness of the scars that I have uneasily managed to stitch with the threads of time? I have come so far, yet part of me still tugs at the past, roots clinging to clads of dirt deep within the earth; each surrenders to the pressure, buckling under the baggage that is carried.
A nervous mind anxiously jumps through hoops in search of answers that aren't quite visible yet. The distance so far, but the connection so easily established. The lack of situational control feeds the, what were thought to be long forgotten, insecurities. The self-prescribed self control begins as do the thoughts that wander aimlessly through the miles and miles of barren misconceptions and doubt.

An open book didn't turn it's own pages, rather, it was touched in some way by a person who seemed trustworthy enough to allow them a glimpse at the words residing within.