She floats aimlessly with no destination in mind. She doesn’t remember how or why she decided that this should be the way to live her life. Her elders would shake their heads, assuming that such a lack of ambition was typical of only the very young and naive. But she knows that it was more than that. It was fear. Fear of what, she’s not quite sure. Failure? Disappointment, perhaps? Or how about rejection?
Floating slowly, she willingly gives up the right to complain about her stops along the way. Wherever she may be, she arrived there free of expectations so that she can never be disappointed. All the while, there is the tiniest of nagging thoughts whispering in the back of her mind. She has ignored it successfully so far, but somehow it continues to grow. One day it will make itself felt with the gut-wrenching realization that she will eventually reach a point in which her boat will turn. It will turn around in such a way that she has no choice but to see where she has been, as well as where she could have gone.
She will face her apathetic existence. Her non-choices were, in themselves, choices.
Two bodies of water run parallel and she chose to just go with the easy tide, riding it as long as she could.
Until she reached
This post features The Lady of Shalott, painted by John William Waterhouse.