I made the right choice.
The older you get, the harder it is for you to make that statement with real certainty. We can chalk it up to the complications of living: lines blur easier, you are less black and white about right and wrong, as you grow in empathy (as you should mature into empathy), you (should) become more cautious and hesitant to make such stark declarations.
But, I made the right choice.
I chose the right job. I broke up with my girlfriend. I turned down an unsuitable partner. I considered – reasonably so, a slightly more suitable one – and if that evaporates into thin air, it will be perfectly okay.
I am making good choices for the rest time in my life because I have finally, finally, learned to lead with both my heart and my head; to consider both my heart and my head; and to force peace between my heart and my head.
I made the right choice. I made the right choice. And that has let me dwell in the right place; to breathe in the fresh air, to enjoy the pull of muscles in my calves as I jog up and down hills, to love the space that I now have around me — my arms stretch wide, my lungs are uncompressed–
I am free. I dwell in freedom.
The freedom that only comes from knowing, most assuredly so, that I made the right choice.