The Choice

The vinyl spins as the neurons fire.
The choice on the table: to keep moseying along the melancholy path to becoming a fully functioning cog in the societal machine, or to turn and sprint down the ever-exhilarating path of Life. Towards a Life spent in Love. A Life spent discussing literature. A Life spent experiencing music. A Life spent savoring the eternal moment, the eternity of the moment.
Or a life spent behind the masquerade of cog turning. A cycle of doing whatever it takes to get that promotion. A cycle of waiting to see who gets voted off the island next. A cycle of always needing more. A cycle of never enough. A cycle going around and around and around. A cycle of the same shit day in, day out. A cycle focused on emptiness.
That’s the choice on the table. That’s the crossroads that I’m standing at.
Welcome to my days, my dilemmas, my decisions.
Amid this choice, the table is cluttered with a physics textbook, a Mac Book, three notebooks, required readings for English 253, and a red Gatorade.
Amid this choice, my mind is cluttered with subsistence, grades, romance, and roommates.