Infinite possibilities

Decisions. Decisions. Decisions.

Sometimes it feels like all we do is make decisions. Most of them are good, but some of them seep through the cracks of our judgement system and turn sour. Some decisions you come to regret while others you come to love. It's a fine line between knowing what you want and what you think you want.

Sometimes I think I should've stayed in Ghent. I should've clawed my way through the August exams and arrived in the second year of university. I didn't. Instead I chose the easy way and changed schools.

I'm not saying I regret making that choice, but I can't help but wonder what would've happened to my life if I was still in Ghent? Would I've patched things up with her or would I've found someone else? Would I've made it through the second year without failure or was it doomed to be a repetition of the first year? Only halfway through?

I like to think of choices as ripples in a clear pool of water. No matter how big or how small the stone you cast into the sparkling water, it always produces a certain effect to its surroundings. The ripples could be shallow and barely noticeable or they could become veritable tsunamis that can threaten to wipe away all that you have built up.

Everytime we make a decision we stand on the edge of possible armageddon and absolute happiness. The near-translusence of that fine line can work intoxicating and cloud our better judgement. Of course sometimes we just don't want to see clearly out of fear of what we might discover so we perpetually choose to look the other way.

I like to believe that the choices you've made helped forge the person that you are today, but sometimes you just have to wonder what your life would like had you made a different choice?

They say that people love you for who you are, but what if you're not the same you anymore if you'd have chosen differently? Can one choice make or break someone's character? Can one yes or no ravage someone's identity and twist it into something else entirely? What does that make us? Tabula rasas or bottomless vessels?

Will the words I write here ensure my future as a writer? Will they push me further and further towards the journalism branch or push me away out of fear of rejection? Are my words important enough to cast ripples in a clear pool of water? Am I that important?

Yes?

Or no?

Two words. Five letters. Infinite possibilities. Infinite outcomes.

Who will I become?