Here’s my entry for this Challenge:
I believe each of us come to a crossroad at some point in life, And at that junction, each must make a decision as to which road to take.
The chosen path would set the tone for how well you’ll live your life.
Or, how poorly.
I came to such crossroad at the age of twenty-five as I sat on the bathroom floor, leaning against the toilet, with an opened medicinal bottle in hand, its content mostly emptied.
How did I get to this point?
I experienced death time and time again. Not personally, but through people whom I cared a great deal about.
A cousin whom I considered a best friend, one who truly understood me for me. We were born a month apart. He never treated me differently even with my hearing impairment as he was dealing with a far greater condition. Over time his body atrophied, and death paid a visit just before our fourteenth birthdays.
A grandmother, also a surrogate mother, whom I spent much of childhood with, her lungs were too weak, as my last memories were of her sitting in a chair, next to an oxygen tank, fighting for every breath. She left this world just as I turned seventeen.
Then came the man whom I married. His face was like an angel whose sweet disposition drew people to him. Instead of being his help-mate, I offered only cruelty.
I could blame my behavior to recently receiving a diagnosis that I was going blind.
Also to resentment. Anger. Even immaturity.
But, those were just excuses. Cop outs.
When on that fateful day, an unmarked car pulled in to the driveway, something within me sunk, and a dark void entered.
And I knew he’d gone on, and was now truly an angel.
Remorse and regrets raged as they tore my heart to pieces. Pieces I felt could never be put back together again.
So, there I was, sitting on the floor, staring into the toilet bowl.
I was at my crossroad.
The house was quiet. Everyone’s asleep. I dared not wake them. They’ve already suffered enough.
Such stupidity! The ultimate act of selfishness on my part.
I stood up, set the now closed bottle on the back of the toilet, and went up to our… my bed.
And lied down.
If I should wake in the morning, I promised to be a different person.
*Author’s Note: Although this Challenge was geared more towards fictional pieces, I felt I had to write my story since its title spoke to me. I’ve never shared this particular incidence in public before, and it was difficult to find the right words. Perhaps in time the words will flow more freely.