I choose

I hold stones in my hands and lucidly wonder where to cast them. Two stones, one small and dull, and one large and colorful. On the first stone, the pale grey color seems bland. But it blends with the color of my mood.

On the second stone, the bright glow of color blinds me, and I imagine splashes of paint on creamy walls. Stones shouldn't be colorful, lighting up in the darkness like the jealous sun trying to steal the fame from the moon.

They told me these stones represent life and death.

They told me to choose one.

In a time where I drowned myself in emptiness, they gave me two stones and instructed me to decide between life and death.

They intended for me to be drawn to the second stone. They expected me to choose life.

I throw the beautifully simple first stone into the deep ocean water, and cling onto the second one. I can almost feel the pulsing of my heart in the seemingly meaningless object. It's heavy in my hand—a temporary but burdening weight.

I hated the second stone and loved the first, but even so...

They were right. I choose life.