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Chances and Choices

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“How can I be who I am?” I ask myself. “How can I be so different now, compared to who I formerly was? How I formally was?” Life didn’t used to be this way (if I can even call this life). It used to be so easy, so ridiculously simplistic. Not anymore. Not now at least.
Now I miss even the trivial things I once owned. I miss everyone I, on no account met and all the experiences, I’ve by no means had. I even miss the tedious, uneventful life I once led.
Unfortunately, I recognize I have to come to terms with my present situation. The time has come to face the fact that I have wallowed in self-pity far longer than need be. Of course it’s now that my mother’s strong belief that there is no point to self-pitying because we have all the time we need to live comes back to me. How ironic. I mean my dreary existence has now passed and I am presently deceased, so what does it matter now? I can be as self-pitying as I want. There’s no one here to stop me because I’m dead!
Still…maybe I was meant to die at that moment in time. Maybe my life wasn’t suddenly stolen from me like my initial notion. “Maybe it’s for the better,” I tell myself, “It’s not like I was actually living my life anyways.” The truth in my realization nearly has me screaming. I barely manage to contain my pain and keep it from consuming me as I fall to my knees. The most useless of emotions engulfs me. Regret becomes too overwhelming as it pumps from my heart and flows through my veins. “I can’t do anything now,” I weep. “It’s too late for me!”
“You’re wrong,” bellows a faceless voice all the way down the infinite, sallow halls.
“What?” I cry. “Who said that?”
“What you inquire does not equate to what your heart truly desires to know,” these words weigh the air down around me but it’s what The Voice next affirms that makes me think profusely, “You have the possibility to live again if you desire it so.”
“But how can that be!?!?” I ask whilst abruptly raising my head with newfound hope.
“A decision must be made,” said The Voice, “Walk through the door on the left, the door on the right, or the one between the two.”
“There aren’t any…” the words had barely left my mouth as three doors materialized in front of me. “Where does each of these lead?”
“The door on the very left is the entryway to your old life, the door in the middle is the gateway to heaven, and the door on the very right is the entrance to a new life.”





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