Adnan Syed strangled his ex-girlfriend to death, and then, with the help of a friend, buried her body in a nearby park. At least, that’s what the jurors of the Baltimore case believed when, in 1999, their verdict signed the high school senior off to life in prison. Despite a critical testimony coming from a debatably credible witness, flaws in the prosecution’s timeline, and a lack of incriminating DNA evidence, it only took the jury two hours of deliberation after the six-week trial to make a decision.

Lately I’ve been hooked on the podcast “Serial,” which investigates the murder of Hae Min Lee and the validity of the case against Syed. I listened to episode after episode waiting for a telling piece of evidence that would sway me one way or the other, but it never came. In search of closure, I googled “is Syed guilty?” and plunged into the deep end.

After reading dozens (of hundreds) of theories conspired by avid listeners like me, I finally came to a conclusion: it’s best not to decide what happened. Nearly every idea I came across failed to address some kind of contradictory information or just lacked support at all. To choose one reality would mean ignoring a key fact out of convenience, and I’d be closing myself off to other legitimate perspectives.

The word “indecisive” has an undeserved negative connotation. But there’s an underrated upside to not being able to make up your mind right away.

“Indecisive” is typically used in a way that indicates someone doesn’t have an opinion or set of values. But really, someone who’s indecisive has a backbone and can think for themselves — someone who’s indecisive just likes to consider all sides of an issue before arriving at a conclusion, which has its benefits.

For example, as a junior, “what do you want to do when you’re older?” is something I hear from adults regularly. If I know, the adult says, that’s great. But if I can’t decide, the adult says, it’s okay, I still have time.  But really, I think to myself, not knowing is great — maybe even better than already having a career plan.

Instead of deeming my apparent lack of direction as a negative, it excites me. Instead of feeling pressured to complete the impossible task of envisioning my future, I feel liberated by the opportunity open-mindedness provides to pursue trial-runs of my interests until the glass slipper fits.

With every day, I find new ideas that pique my curiosity and new subjects I could add to my list of potential life paths. It’s scary to imagine focusing on one possibility now — there’s just too much I would miss. With limited experience in the real world, how can I decide if I’d rather go into environmental science over creative writing without more knowledge of both fields?

Practicality constantly demands decisions. There are the day-to-day choices that don’t warrant a second thought, but eventually the questions will evolve into unavoidable ones about where you go to college, what you major in, where you settle down.

But for dilemmas that test your morals, your passions, your future — take the time you have. Think hard. Consider each factor, and more importantly, don’t block any out.

Our country is becoming increasingly politically and ethically polarized. As the middle ground quickly crumbles beneath our feet, it’s more valuable than ever to be indecisive, to need to contemplate conflicting perspectives before reaching a conclusion. Spending time poring over facts, or even crafting a pro-con list is more productive than choosing a side to advocate for and not looking back — in order to communicate with others and make progress, it’s necessary to understand and genuinely care about where they’re coming from.

When making important judgements and decisions, don’t rush like the jurors in Syed’s case. Instead, reflect on your values and the possibilities.