Out of Control

Stay,  leave. Me,  him. Neons signs and blaring voices: “CHOOSE. CHOOSE. CHOOSE.” Everywhere I turn, they say: Left or Right. Stay or Leave. Me or Him.

I DON’T KNOW. I don’t know. I’m spinning, spinning,  spinning, forever spinning. And they keep screaming: “CHOOSE. CHOOSE. CHOOSE.”

So I turn left, but the ghosts of right trail behind, whispering, glaring, pulling. So I turn right, but the ghosts of left circle closely, nudging, gripping, pulling.

I CAN’T CHOOSE. I can’t choose. I won’t. All I can do is spin, spin, spin.

I’m sorry,
I’m sorry,
I’m sorry.

xSZHx

 

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