In some aspects of my life I feel like the proverbial cat: when I am inside I want to be outside, and when I am out I want to be in. I know not from where this decisive indecision comes from. Often I find I can oscillate between my two states of indecision freely, some mad pendulum motivated by chaos alone it would seem. The thing that gets me though is sometimes, just sometimes, I walk through the door to the other side, turn around, and find the door shut and unyielding; locked forever and never to be open again no matter how longingly I peer through the window.
Then one day, beyond prediction and imagination and without context: a house is built around me while I thought I was outside, giving me two places I want to be rather than here. A new turmoil to be sure; one that leaves me reeling: wondrous, breathless and afraid.