standing on the edge

A girl reached a crossroad where an infinite number of paths spread before her waiting her whim. A wise man pointed to the path furthest to her left and told her that down this path lay a chasm too wide to jump and too dark for any mortal to know where the bottom was, if indeed it had a bottom. The image scared the girl. She was afraid of the place in her mind that showed her the dark, deep, steep pit; and she couldn't decide what she feared most, the idea of hitting its bottom or of never reaching it. The choice was hers, said the man, she didn't have to jump. So she looked at the other trails before her. Some made her sad, disgusted or hurt, and she vowed not to take those paths. Some led to complacent but guaranteed happiness, while others intrigued her with their challenging climbs and veiled destinations. But even as she looked at all these other options the girl's fear grew. She feared because she knew which path she was going to take, had known it before she even reached the crossroads, and what's more, that the man had known it too. She knew that she would jump.