"The Road Not Taken"

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Robert Frost had it about right. For over a week, now, I have been looking down each road as far as I could, considering which would be the best to take. Like this traveller in his poem, I can’t take both. I also probably can’t come back and walk the other one later on.

Today, I took the necessary steps down the road I have decided on. I have emailed my course tutor to explain that I am withdrawing, and emailed my landlord to tell him I am moving out. So many other people are excited for me, and congratulatory.

I am bricking it, for want of a better expression. I am looking at my comfortable, lovely little home here in Tooting, and wondering why on earth I am about to leave it. I looked at my fellow students and the interesting timetables that we have, and wondered why I would ever want to give it up.

Perhaps that is the difference here, from previous “life-changing” decisions that I’ve made: before, I had something that I wanted to leave behind that was pushing me forwards. This time, I don’t want to leave anything, I just want to reach one thing sooner, and that means I have to leave something.

I just hope that this road will be interesting and rewarding. It will not be without its challenges, I’m certain. I hope my sense of trepidation is a healthy caution that will stop any foolish impetuosity from clouding my judgement.

Because, of course, there is nothing foolish or impetuous about rushing off to America to fall in love with a cowboy, chase cows around, and decide to eat nothing but beef for the foreseeable future…

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