Selfishness.

The path is plain and I can see my way. I can see past the trees made of doubt, planted so deep with my fears as their roots. I can see past the boulders I'll have to lift over my head and carry on my back, Heavier than the ones I already bare. I can see all the way to the other side where mountains are seas, And everything in between is everything else. It all blends so easily and disappears in plain sight; the way I wish to. I can see it all, I can taste it all, I can breathe it all. But I can feel none of it. Nothing but these hands holding me in place. Firmly in place. They say "don't go" "please stay". They pull on my heart strings so thin, so fragile, so easy to burst, to break. They pull and they tear my heart apart at the seams. These hands are selfish. But so am I.