These past few years I have borrowed time. I always knew, even way back as a teen, that I would be where I stand today.
Time is a funny thing.
There are moments when it stands still. Feet burning beneath you, the slow burn acting as a grounding, living, breathing thing.
Then spaces where everything feels rushed. When your feet move so fast they brush the surface of the earth as a butterflies wings flutter.
Today I am at a cross road. Standing still. Yet rushed. I have decisions to make, figures to consider and my own mental space closing in.
If I don't make these decisions today - I live in fear that time will drag me along in its wake and I will miss my chance.
Yet inside I wonder if this is so dreadful. What if my choice is the wrong one. What if I rush this and develop regrets. What if it is the right decision though?
I mentioned last night that this disease has given me one option but I lied. I have two options.
Continue trudging along the old worn pathway, up and down as I have walked the past decade. A path that will eventually loop back and become the new road.
Or take a leap of faith and skip down the newly paved road; seeing the wonder of new places and new beginnings.
Fear is filtering my senses as I second guess myself.
Why can't time pause momentarily, at least long enough to make my decision. Or at least until tomorrow when I am able to get a decent sleep beneath my belt.