One Way
I’m driving down this endless road. The white and yellow lines stretch into infinity. The road seems straight, but I’ve been driving so long I’ve forgotten to notice if it ever curved. But I know it hasn’t forked, because that’s what I’m waiting for. A fork in this endless road. Change. I did come across one a few years back, but I bore right because I was afraid of what awaited me on the left. Since then I have been on this straight and narrow path, constricting in every way. And even though I say that I wish for a fork in the road ahead, I do not know if I would choose to stray from my already chosen path. I do not know if I would have the strength to bear the adventures on that stray path. I often think of how wonderful it might be. The stray path. But I soon remember that every road is grim and dark. Despite how it may sound, I do not hate this path I have chosen. Life is good on the straight path. I have no need for complaint. But I do wonder if life could ever be great, and I know without saying a word that life on the straight path can never be great. And I used to ask myself if bearing right was the best decision, but I have learned to stop asking that question, because the answer might be what I think it is. For now, I simply drive on, following my straight and narrow path, waiting for the dead end sign to appear. Life is good. And if I tell myself that enough times, I’ll start to believe it, right? Right.
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