The anticipation of turning the pages of my new chapter is killing me.
As I try turn.. Thoughts of the past, the present & the ever unpredictable future came gushing through.
“Am I ready to start a new chapter?” I asked myself.
“Have I learnt enough yet?”
“What if I regret turning the page over & the new chapter is really just dry, plain and boring?”
My heart skipped a beat.
My stomach fluttered.
“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;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference-“
-Robert Frost-
