Crossroads

Here I am. I'm standing in the eye of the storm; I'm at the crossroads. (And I'm not sure if that's "cross roads" or "crossroads.") I don't like the fact that I'm here, but here I am. It's time for black and white, no more gray. Usually I like things crisp and clean, but lately it's all been gray. All of it. White merging into black, black threatening to dirty the white; gray. And here I am, on the gray, knowing I must decide: black or white. Which will it be?

Black is so appealing. It's dark, mysterious, intoxicatingly beautiful. But that's only the surface. You can't quite see what's underneath. But something tells me it smolders with the stench of death, curses, and a vomit-filled pain.

White is so unappealing. It didn't used to be. Well, the truth is that it's quite beautiful on white, especially when you're smack dab in the center. But once you wander over to the edge, where you can see the smudges of gray and looker over to the blacker pastures, sometimes the white looses its appeal. Somehow amnesia sets in and you can't remember why you liked white in the first place. How curious sudden amnesia is.

And if you start to wade out into the gray, you think of how much fun it is to be out of the white, into something new which sparks your appetite for adventure. You splash and, yes, you even play in the gray, feeling a bit guilty for leaving the white, but easing the conscience in knowing that you're not going over there, to the dark side.

Sometimes you're closer to white. Sometimes you get pulled, by some incredibly strong force, over to the black, but you make sure you stay in the gray. And then, at some point, you come to the crossroads. You can't really see the sign from the white. Actually, you didn't know that it even existed. But now, as you've been rolling around and making yourself all gray, you see the sign, and it looms over you. Once very insignificant and far away, it is now akin to a monkey on your back. And now you know, your time is up; you're at the crossroads.

White or balck? Black or white? There really is no decision to be made...if you think logically. Logically, you know white is where you belong and it is where you'll stay. And once in a while you'll think of the black, but that will grow farther and fewer between until you are so fulfilled with white that you wonder why you every found the other color so appealing. That's logically speaking, of course. But, be it not for your grounding logic, your emotions would sweep you away on a magical ship right into the black sea. You'd frolick and play, play and frolick, and deny (since all logic is gone) that your blissful fantasy ship would every capsize...until it does. Then you'll suddenly be splashed with a tidalwave of reality and not only do you need to be dragged back to the white, you also streak it all up and make the biggest mess of your life.

People look. They whisper. Fingers point and tongues say, "Tisk, tisk." There is no hiding beneath your shame; your heart is as black as your face.

And then the phone rings...