“Fate isn’t one straight road…there are forks in it, many different routes to different ends. We have the free will to choose the path.” ― Dean Koontz, Odd Thomas
I find myself at an impasse…
This isn’t a bout of depression or my usual brand of insanity. This is…
the face of what’s lacking…
and I hate it.
It makes my skin crawl and question every action. I know what I’m not. It scares the living hell out of me. What I fear most is that I do not have the will necessary to combat this particular adversary.
Keep running into the same wall and your head will be as bloody as mine; I’m not sure what I expect: from life, from myself.
Frak, I don’t know!
My mistakes! My mistakes.
By nature, I am a poetic sort even in my daily dealings. I do believe in romance…or more succinctly, the chance. I also believe in strong friendships and how they can shape your life. Despite my beliefs, neither aspect has garnered much success especially as of late.
My greatest sin was probably holding on too tight, often to what I didn’t earn or give time to develop. I was so afraid of losing that I eventually lost.
Nostalgia is guilty pleasure; my attempts to live in the past, to grab fictional concepts of what certain things should be, has hurt progress in the here-and-now.
When I tell myself the truth, truly see it, I fear the whole damn slate may have to be cleared. Similar to jumping out of a plane: there’s nothing but you and the air.
No matter how scared (or scarred) I am, I can’t stand to live like a hermit any longer. I am slowly killing myself, letting the weeds grow.
As I write, I try to work a solution…but it isn’t there. Maybe it is the lull of a sleep deprived brain or the depth of my cynicism…
Ultimately, what is fate?
I’m going to sleep and pray on it.
Bye for now, KS.