Quicksand

I wander.

I stumble.

I fall.

I panic.

I pander.

I ramble.

I stop... 

Unsure of how to move forward. 

Unsure if I should get up, or stay down to tend to my wounds. 

I stay down. 

Not because I decided to, but because I could not decide.

Frozen in my indecision, I begin again.

I panic.

I pander.

I ramble.

I…

I’m not sure what to do next. 

I’m still frozen.

I guess if indecision is like ice,

Then I only need to wait it out, right?

I should be free by springtime…

.

.

.

I could have mended my wounds by now. I could have moved on already.

Indecision is not ice, it’s quicksand.

Waiting is not the answer,

For the longer I stick, the more stuck I become.

I’m moving now, but only further down.

HELP!

HELP!

.

.

.

…Slowly sinking, I begin again.

Panic. Pander. Ramble. Stop. 

STOP!

I can’t keep repeating this process.

THIS is the definition of insanity,

And I've only made things worse.

So than, what should I do?

I don't know. That's why I’m in this mess. 

Ok, maybe that isn’t the right question. 

Let’s rethink this...

How about, “What can I do?”

That sounds like a better question. 

So, what can I do?

Well, I can panic.

—Yea, we know that one.

I can pander. 

—Yes, we’ve established that as well.

I can ramble.

—That you can. 

I can sleep.

—Hey, sleep! That’s a new one. Is that really one of our options?

No, I was kidd…

—ZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz….