I’m going through a personal crisis and it’s left me in an emotional freeze frame. I’m paralysed by indecision and suddenly my life requires urgent revision.
I spend nights at home,all alone
wandering…..
What the f*ck next…..?
I stare blankly at friends and family as their lives keep on developing.
My mother hands me a mug of tea and hopes for a cure.
“Things will work how they are meant to”
Over Tetley tea and mindless hours of day time TV I try rationalizing a series of life events that have conspired to put me here.
I shrug off an uncomfortable possibility; surely I’m not to blame??
Was this crisis self self directed?
I clutch my mug protectively…
An internal voice pipes up
“ no no it wasn’t you, listen Esme it just wasn’t meant to be"
The tea tastes sweeter on my next sip, my belly warmer.
Keep talking. . .
“You are destined for greater things wait and see”.
I’ve heard these words before I’ve spoken them. Those are the words muttered by fate.
In conversations with friends and in whispers overheard by strangers I learn everyone thinks about fate.
“Fates oh its life’s director... Fate’s is life cause.. Fate can be fatal.
With fate directing the proceedings that make up my little life, the mess I’ve made of it feels easier to handle. I switch from life’s player to a happy spectator as I let fate sort my triumphs and my tragedies into neat piles, labelled ‘to serve a purpose’.
I don’t resist pain but neither do I fight for happiness. Amy, Elvis, Kurt Cobain was it fate directing your pain??
As I wander round in circles repeating experiences re passing mistakes it’s easier to rely on fate to point out my exit. I wait hopelessly by the phone, and develop a synthetic brightness about my dull life.
To those of us that let fate in we listen to that age old adage and make it true “good people always come out on top in the end”.
I get unfairly dismissed from my job , it’s a cause I could fight and a stand I could make , I don’t bother I wait.
I ask fate to draft in opportunities; to give me my share of good luck .I read off personal tragedies, like a resume,
“ Look fate I deserve this”
Free will shakes his head with disappointment, I hear him mutter
Real people make their own luck.Suddenly I stop drifting and sign up to life’s cause; to life’s success.I decide I want to acomplish something .
You can’t measure success. It’s as mercurial as my mood ; I’ts my script and its only understood my me.
It’s not peculiarly modern but the key to ‘making it’ now fits a thousand locks.
I wander how do we know, which one we should choose?
Should I be a good lover, have a great career, should I travel the world or conquer my fears?
Through the recession, against the rise of human depression I’m expected to succeed.
I feel like I owe it to myself;Fate won’t do it this time.
I like that simple idea that rings clear and makes whispers in my ear,
"It’s your choice"
Free will makes a formidable opponent when life’s realities fight my aspirations and try and crush my dreams.
I don’t care if the job market is competitive; I’ll be a better opponent.
I don’t care the odds are stacked against me;doesn’t that make the prize more valuable?
I pass wishing wells uninterested and my palms remain unread I’ll keep trying till I’m dead.
FUCK FATE.
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