Pulling

I am in a theater class
Standing in between
One person beckoning me with a rage-laced kindness
And another begging me, happily.

I am a child again.

I fail to stand in the middle;
I am pulled towards the begging.

The professor says,
Good!
You see,
In life,
We have these moments
Where we choose one or the other.

The one we leave behind,
That space in between us,
That is called Regret.

I cry in a dressing room,
Feeling the pull of
Past
And present.

When I return to the class,
I am asked if I’m okay.

Sure,
Yeah.

I am learning a lot
About Theater.