Choice. One word, numerous possibilities, endless headaches, and countless results, each catastrophically apart than the other. There is not a single person on this planet that hasn’t faced this predicament at one point or another in their life. Everyone has made a choice they regret, they loved, or they would’ve made if they could’ve. But there has always been something eerie or terrifying about the sentence “the choice is yours” as if choice was this limited edition fragrance which if you buy you’re okay, you’re in the clique of wonderfully smelling people; but if you don’t the odds maybe against you.
Every single day we make choices.
It’s your choice whether you want to snooze that alarm or simply turn it off for good. It’s your choice whether you want to wear that dress twice in a week because it makes you look good from all angles. It’s your choice whether you want to bunk the last class and watch the last show of the movie you were dying to see before it goes off the screen and you’ll have to wait weeks before a decent torrent appears. It’s your choice if you want to re-connect/disconnect with the people who once were on speed dial.
It certainly is your choice if you want to tell your parents that maybe this world can survive with one less stereotypical-brown-engineer/doctor/MBA, and maybe just maybe pursuing arts *gasps* won’t let one starve. It is your choice if you finally find the nerve to tell the person who is hopelessly becoming more and more smitten to you, that maybe you guys are just not working. However, it’s definitely your choice when you muster up the courage to tell the person who’s always first on your search list that “Hey! Look. You’re the one!” instead of letting ego playing its part.
Did I mention it’s your choice whether you want to have that loaf of banana bread, aftermath of which will make you drown in a pool of self shame and belief that all your hard work at gym has gone down the drain by that heavenly slice of 100 calories. What about the choice you made when you and your group made fun of that boy for being too goody two shoes when deep inside you knew it wasn’t right. Like the choice of nickname you guys made for the girl, whose self confidence crumbled day by day by being called “fatty patty” . But then again it is your choice when you stay tight-lipped on domestic abuse under your roof; for society has always told to hide the bad but show the good, and become an advocate on social media.
Dear lady, it is your choice to finally speak up, God knows how many have left without muttering a word while not being mute.
Dear Gentleman, it is your choice if you finally tear off that costume of being unbroken and let out a sigh or two.
No one should judge either.
In the end, although the decision is yours, you don’t have to be defined by it. It all narrows down to the whether it will be okay or if it won’t be okay, guess you’ll have to make the choice to know!