My shoulders are shivering with the thought of what lies ahead... a confession, but to whom shall I utter it? "I miss him, I will miss you." No, those words don't feel right. Though, the nagging feeling at the pit of my stomach, the edge of my soul, the back of my mind... deep within my body. "I can't be with you, I am with him." Those aren't the right words either.

There must be something somewhere, to repair this broken situation... to halt the quakes rushing through my body. I do miss him, but I fear I cannot go back. Isn't my choice in stone? My mind made up? It doesn't seem that is the case... It doesn't seem... It does seem that my mind has different ideas. Or at least, it wants to feel that way.

Deep down, at the quaking center, I think I know.

My choice is in stone... and irrevocable. And the promise I made, I broke already... My conscience dwells on it, sees a ring when it looks down at my fingers. It can't be. I shouldn't be. But I wanted it so badly, for so long... I instigated... I can't... anymore. Now I hear new promises, say new vows... and I fear that you, that incredible and ominous you, do not know... that you are not expecting.

And I quake with fear.

I have made my bed. I will lie in it, I suppose.