Decisions.
Decisions, she said.
Are we making the right ones or the wrong ones at any given time? Sometimes I feel I've chosen the worst possible path, failed at every turn, hurt people, lost people, and yet ended up somewhere better than I had ever hoped for. And sometimes when I make simple choices, the ones no one really ever thinks twice about, it brings about this pain, this heartache, this regret, and I know I should've chosen something else.
I miss her face, but when I see it, it's this still frame from the past. A print. Not the original. I look at her and I know her, but she doesn't know me anymore, and never will. It's a shame, because even if I've turned out different because of it, I would've liked her to be here, to see it.
When I get married. When I have kids. When I sing. When I get wiser to the things around me. I wanted to share that with someone who wouldn't ever leave because they were scared, or because they wanted to. Unconditional love only really comes from a rare handful of people in your life.
I fear I've lost mine.
So decisions, wrong or right?
It's always both.
She told me so.
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