Choice by Kholoud Hussain

A prolonged shadow creeps behind us in the darkness of reality, leaving us both petrified and mesmerized.  Creation of an utter paradox. A simple, rhetorical question that shifts our fundamental and intricate beliefs. One of the world’s greatest desires is simply a mere paradox. For isn’t choice nothing but a preexisting absurdity?  
Beings bestow their meager choices at the doorstops of existence, with a conflicting mind and soul. They are so blinded by the sheer idea of having the freedom to choose that they no longer accept an input about what might contradict them. Severely close minded are those who don’t allow their minds to wonder about the harsh consequences of the desired. We are so enthralled by the utter illusion of free will that we fail to recognize our lack of it, or rather, our abundance of it. Echoes of the believed truth are heard and replayed, with no simple understanding of the wavelengths that make them up. Wondering about the alternative universes created simply by the infinite number of decisions committed momentarily is itself a paradox.  Similar to the White Snakeroot, that seems magnificent and alluring with its slender texture amid the woods, the abundance of one thing can be poisonously fatal.
Many speak of the glorious gifts that free-will has bought the human kind, and so little talk about the horrid consequences of them. No matter the significance of the relative amount of time spent on discovering the unnatural, people have yet to believe the seemingly absurd. We were raised with the profound mentality that can aid us in deciding what road is best to follow, what choice is best to pick. Simply, choices are holograms. They mimic what we need and embody it, yet are never truly present. Giving us something to view in return gives us the lack of understanding.  Naturally, we become oblivious to both their mere existence and absence.
Confrontation with ample opportunities can have more peculiar consequences than most frequently think of. When given a seemingly infinite amount of choices, and one ends up choosing poorly, the magma that has been slowly rising finally erupts, leaving the burnt ashes of regret and self-loathing. Gradually, but definitely, the distress of making the wrong or the worst decision paralyze every organ in a being, leaving them overdosed with the adrenaline of trauma and remorse. For whose fault was it, that I, a seemingly liberated being, allowed the blaze of choice to engulf me to the point of failure? After all, we are puzzles, each embedded with a short fused bomb and a stressor with no explicit code, for anything can be that ultimate code.
At one point, the lavishness of choice can no longer be considered a luxury. Instead, it becomes the embodiment of loss and failure. A wretched ship longing for a land in which it can reload and heal. Thoughts of “why are we doing this rather than that,” and “why settle for the normal and the average where we can behold the great” cloud our already tangled minds. Discussions about freedom and choice often force the brute within every being to take control and change the civil methods to savage. Increasingly so, our instinct to compare the incomparable grows to become the backbone of our judgments.  Associating our lives with  that of others consequently drown us in a chasm filled with the need to strive above others.

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