Life is like a box of chocolates...

I feel like I'm in a movie. A complicated story where it all goes wrong and the main character struggles with himself and the other characters in the story. I watch these type of movies sometimes and I'm always awestruck by the ones that end unexpectedly. I enjoy the ones that don't end in cliche with the obligatory happy ending. I feel like I'm in one of those stories. You get to a point in your life when you come to a major crossroad. You weigh up all the options and surely one path is better than the other. It has to be for your life to continue on it's merry way. Even if you make the wrong decision it'll be ok. You make the plans and convince yourself that you are the master of your own destiny. For most of us, I'm sure this is the case. So here I am, at a major crossroad in my life. And I made all the right choices and weighed up all my options. I have a clear path before me. It feels like all the roads are straight. I have support from everyone who is important to me. And I will follow that path. But down the other one, there is something. An idea, a fleeting image, a memory. In an ideal world the two paths would bend a little, cross over again and everything will fall into place. But here in reality, that will never happen. So here I stand, with this movie plot floating around me. Ready to face this challenge I have and I'm excited about it. But at the same time, I'm desperately wanting to hang on to something remembered. A small part of my life that I can never forget. A piece of history that will touch me forever. That epic little tale that forever became fable in a split second. A short and sharp reaction that set me on my new path. And yet at the same time, I have other stories around me. Each one as important as the other, surging forward with power and grace and happily spiralling out of control. Each one with it's own ending, whether good or bad, still undecided. Each one capable of cliche or raw ingenuity. An unimaginably endless string of opportunity or hope or failure. Even if it is cliche. "The defence argues no fault by means of temporary insanity, Your Honour," my lawyer will say as I stand trial for the murder of a life worth having. I could tear everything apart in this very instant. I have it within my grasp, I can feel it. I know it. I want it. I hate it. It's not fair. God help me when I do something I will regret. In the end, it will hurt. It does already.