Soul Switch

The hallway was dimly lit.

I ran my hands up and down the walls, feeling the paint that had been haphazardly sprawled over oat-like bumps and anxiously scouring for a light switch.

My hands moved faster and faster until I was sprinting through the endless hallway.

The blackness blanketed the light, and the dim rays of sunshine from the windows had been drowned by the enclosing darkness.

I banged my hands against my surroundings in distress.

My arm turned limp, my feet burned from the insoles of my shoes, and my eyelids collapsed.

I conceded to the invisible world, giving up any hope of illuminating the right path to take.

Day after day I tear through my consciousness as I scramble to come up with some self identity-- a phrase, a quote, a vague peace of mind.

I’m unsure what I’m looking for, but I’m upset that I haven’t found it.

I flip my options over the same way I flipped pancakes when I was seven-- over and over again, anxiously, for fear of ruining them.

I’m looking for a soul switch. A sign.

Quick and easy-- no looking back. A definite answer.

But it is doubtful that my continuous babbling thoughts will be quieted by any quote I dig up.

After all, how can I hinge my future on a coincidental arrangement of letters that happened to hit me just right?

But, how can I hinge my future on anything when my consciousness is a void that grows entirely differently each day?

And so I go to sleep unsure everynight, enthused by the idea of morning clarity. And I’ve made the decision a thousand times. But I’ve unmade it just as many. Because my certainty is as likely as any soul switch I’m looking for.