Twenty years ago, the only choice i knew was to live life like it was an obligation regardless of whether or not i understood what the heaven it meant. I just knew not to ask. I did what i was expected to do and i was expected to finish what i did. Never questioned, never strayed.
Ironically that difficult life made me what i am today and without force, i am humbly gratified.
But twenty years later - to someone else whose blood inescapably relates to mine - life is seemingly a matter of 'un-choosing' choices he once made, like it is as legal as hitting on his Backspace key, like his life owes nobody.
I am going home today to break the news to him that life is not that kind. Life is never kind, if he's not.