I can feel the pressure building up inside, I know I have to choose soon. Don’t make me decide.
I don’t want to be here in America. But I can’t stay there in my mind. I must leave this space. I must make another a new path. But, how will I ever choose? Though my heart sees the obvious, my mind races for a better answer. I can’t shake this feeling like I might make the wrong choice.
I don’t know which way to go or how to even start. Time doesn’t seem to exist right now, so I’m not sure how long it’s been. Why is everyone so blissfully ignorant? Why am I so seriously sad?
I just want that feeling again. That knowing. That truth. I know it is here. Somewhere. But, where?
Suddenly, a heightened awareness takes over. It leads me into the street. No one even notices.
I’m in Boston, I realize. One of the oldest cities in America. I want to remember what it feels like to be an American. To be from here. To love here. To find comfort in the familiar that is home. Even if I am completely divided. Maybe it is okay to just be here, now.
“Get out of the street! What if a car comes!?”
What if I’ve been ignoring the divide? What if I’ve been letting it sit and simmer inside? What if being here and there are all the same?
What if it doesn’t matter which path I choose? What if I stay here for a little longer instead?
What if there is no right direction or wrong? What if that sign I was looking for was inside me along?
What if I stop asking and just listen to my heart?
I can feel the pull of excitement reeling me back in, there’s that feeling again. I see my paths begin to collide as I kneel down and watch everything change shape. My perspective transforms instantly. Inception takes over as I stare down each of the narrow streets.
Now I see, I am the compass pointing North. I am the choice.
I am the divide.