Torn

Torn

At first she thought that this arrangement fit her perfectly.
That there was no need to rush.
No need to pretend.
No need to be anything other than what already was.
To live and savor the moment.
The perfect arrangement it seemed.

Then the voice of reason that she so conveniently shut out whispered in her ear.
Mocked her.
Questioned her.
Reminded her…
About all the previous arrangements she had been in before.
The euphoria and exhilaration of it all
And the emptiness and hurt that was sure to follow close behind.

She should know better the voice said.
Don’t be stupid it taunted.
Don’t think that this time it would be any different.

So she is torn into wanting the present and thinking about the future.
Unsure to be reckless or to be logical.
Wanting to wait and wanting to bolt.
Weighing the options of thinking with her heart or thinking with her mind.
She is torn…
Because both roads vie in opposite directions.
Just torn.