I stand at a crossroad surrounded by thousands of paths, each representing what can be. From each of these paths come insistent whispers. They promise of honor and riches. So many voices. TOO many voices. Throbbing pain erupts from my head as I try to listen to them all. There are too many paths, too many decisions. Why is there no path that shines brighter than the others, or even just a single path? No matter how ragged that path may be, it still would have been better than me standing here waiting in an eternity only to grow weaker and weaker until I diminish without having chosen a path in the end, dying without purpose. All that remain of my stay of earth being the footprints remaining where I waited for so long, but even they will dissipate in the end.