Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I did not know which one to take.
I sat in a yellow taxi, watching the sky turn pink with the setting, yellow sun, surrounded by the flickering yellow lights of the city. I was still indecisive. Though I had deliberately hailed the taxi after making my decision, I was still uneasy.
One would know when one was making the right decision. I, however, was still on the fence.
The card sat neatly in my lap, wrinkled only slightly at the corners where my sweaty finger tips once pinched. The pink envelope guarded a folded sheet of white paper. The parchment itself was harmless and meaningless, but the words that donned its surface could make or break.
It was written for you. But, whether I should give it to you or tear it up, I did not know.
I was never good with decisions, always asking others to make a choice for me.
“Would you rather have strawberry or chocolate?”
“You choose for me.”
“Do you want to join or sit out?”
“I’m not sure. What should I do?”
I was always met with the same response.
“It’s your choice.”
My choice. Which direction could my life had gone if I had made all the opposite decisions. All the wrong decisions instead of the right ones. All the right decisions instead of the wrong ones. Reverse my successes and correct my mistakes. Who would I be?
The universe holds too many choices. Too many roads leading in too many directions. A winding highway dotted with thousands of vehicles traveling to all sorts of places. How many of those roads lead to the same destination? Or do they all end up in different places?
All roads lead to Rome, but how would one get to Greece?
I glanced down at the envelope in my lap. It held everything that could be shared. Everything I wished you could hear. Those words had consequences. Did they need to be heard?
Thus, I was faced with such dilemma.
Do I tell you or should I let you go? Should I live in silence and watch you slip away or should I burden you with this confession just so I can receive closure?
Two roads with two outcomes each. Two destined for smiles and two destined for tears. Which one did I want to risk?
It’s my choice.
“Where to?” the driver asked as we pulled away, traveling further and further from my familiar apartment complex.
To you? To a friend’s? To a land far, far away?
My breath quickened as the time between the question and the answer stretched too long to be natural.
Two roads diverged in the yellow wood, and I was still torn as to which way I should go.