You want a sign. You grieve the fact you're disoriented. You cry out for direction. You want an obvious clear neon-lit sign.
And then when it comes you're not sure what it means.
It's green, it's arrow-shaped, it clearly points along a single pathway. The pathway is flagged with bright torches which light up in sequence like some runway signalling a plane to land. The sign says GO THIS WAY and has not only your name on it, but your middle and last names, your date of birth and the names your parents were considering giving you, every nickname anyone who's loved you has ever given you and even the nicknames that nobody called you but you gave yourself.
Yet still you cry, "What does this mean?!"
You don't want a sign. You want a tunnel. You want to be pressed in on all sides with only one possible escape. You want the path forward to be the only path. You don't want to have to choose. You want all choices to be made for you and to follow on in sweet ignorant enthusiastic bliss.
So I’ll tell you this one thing: Choice sucks. But it sucks more not to have it. To choose is to be responsible, to be an adult, to take control of your life and say I and I alone shall be accountable for my success and my failure, for my fortune and my mistakes; I have nobody to blame but myself from henceforth and I shall be my own strength. I shall endeavour to choose with logic, with heart, with generosity and with discipline. And if ever I cannot choose between two options, only the trusted few shall be my guide.
I’m cast adrift in a roiling sea but I am the captain of my destiny.
I tell you this: you do only have one choice: you must choose.
