The Hanged Man mocks me; for I am him. He remains secured to his tree; unable to choose a path to walk. Arms spread wide to offer a choice to me; he laughs because I, too, cannot choose. I stand at the crossroads, immoble with the possibility. Unable to commit to a path; to a choice. I wait; I wait for someone to push me..to choose for me. Then, I cannot be blamed for the path I walk. I cannot play the game of 'I should have'. Instead, I play the game of 'what if', and stare at the Hanged Man; who mocks me.