I took this picture; back then he was pretty mangy-looking. But the look on his face was pure ecstasy: he was frolicking in the sea, uncollared and could run free as the wind. I sometimes envy him--his freedom from responsibilities and expectations. Because I have been given so much, I am also expected of so much. So sometimes, I wish I weren't. But then life would be so different, so the question here lies if whether I'd still have the same questions? Or am I just scared and running away, afraid to make a choice? Thing is, choices become decisions which have effects and consequences. And my fears are that someone will get harmed, or that I will fail, and that they will all be irrevocable. Then again, I can't stay in limbo forever; that in itself is a decision, and in my case, would probably be a lame, half-baked one. The doggie made a choice, in his own way: he decided to have to run for shelter, scavenge or beg for scraps, let any illnesses go untreated, but his life is his own. Perhaps I should make a choice, too, and soon.
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