Drawing Me In, Drawing It Out

Waiting. Constantly waiting. For when the time is right, I insist. Not quite yet, just a little longer, I can wait. For how much longer? I don't know. There's still so much I need to do, yet it still doesn't feel like quite enough to keep me here. So I find myself at a standstill, at internal crossroads, not knowing which way to turn. One path is lit up and alluring, promising an end to suffering, trying to draw me in. Another is a steep hill where I cannot see what is next, only that the first few minutes of the trek would be tedious. Yet another is a relatively straight path that seems to subtly slope downwards, shrouded in a blinding yet comforting fog. The last is long, with many twists and turns, easy to get lost and hard to find your way. Why is this the one I'm supposed to choose? Why can't I walk that lit path, and not have to hurt anymore. I can't decide which path to take today. I never can, until I have to, so I draw it out. So for now I'll wait at the crossroads, not realizing every day I don't head down the lit up path sends me further down the twisting one.