I'm looking out at the crossroads, a meeting place of ancient roads. My train of thought pauses at this most important of stations. A casual joke, a final cigarette... this is how I want to deal with such a scenario. In reality, this world is on hold, paused, until I find the right way to progress. The worst form of writer's block.
The fear of choosing one of the many paths open to me restricts my actions to that of an anxious spectator. I want to play, but don't know the rules. And yet I'm quietly optimistic, knowing one day the clouds will part, the sun will shine, and the welcome mat will be rolled out in anticipation of my arrival. The details of this happy ending are so far blank, but one day they shall be written in a permanent marker. I promise you.
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