Life is a series of choices. You make decisions, and they lead you down a path to countless more, each connected to the other, like interwoven metal forming into a cohesive chain, which can either be used to bind oneself, to trap others, or simply stand as a reminder of how easily we can forget to love ourselves. Waiting hurts. Forgetting hurts. But not knowing which turn to take can sometimes be the most painful thing in the world. Because the hardest part about the road not taken is that you never know where it might have led. The problem, simply put, is that we cannot choose everything simultaneously. So we live in danger of becoming paralysed by indecision, terrified that every choice might be the wrong choice. The wrong path. The wrong life.
There must be a few times in ones journey when you stand at a precipice of a decision. When you know there will forever be a Before and an After. He knew there would be no turning back if he designated this moment as his own prime meridian from which everything else would be measured. So as he saw himself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because he couldn't make up his mind which of the figs he should choose, he realised that life is passing him by. He wanted each and every one of them, but choosing meant losing all the rest, and, as time passed, still unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at his feet. Forever lost, and never seen again.
