Sometimes I wish everything was as simple as it looks… but that will never be the case, everything no matter how small; no matter how miniscule has depth. The type of depth that makes you rethink your morals; rethink your life. This depth makes everything worth so much more, makes everything look different. Less is always more.
    Fate among other fickle things has always been another thing we believe in, this force drives our destiny, derails our future; in all bluntness is force could be simply described as the law of attraction, wanting something so badly you could touch it. Pulling that thing towards you with all your might and soul makes it gravitate to you, until it becomes yours. Now in my personal opinion that’s a load of c**p; I can remember times when I wanted so badly for all the chaos around me to simply vanish. To wake up in another life and realize it was all some horrible, traumatic nightmare; I wanted that to be truth so much I could feel myself believing this was a dream, that nothing would matter because I’d wake up with mom walking without braces, and a father who would teach me how real men are meant to treat women; ever so obviously, I’m still here. The obviousness of how wrong the laws of attraction describe fate is straight forward; the truth behind the matter being that if I didn’t wake up in another life then, fate must want me here now? If the force of fate wants me here there must be some greater purpose for my ongoing pain, stress, and lack of any actual childhood feelings and or experiences. Whatever drives our future, may it be fate, destiny, God; surely has some legitimate reason for all the chaos and turmoil we survive in as humans. In my experienced opinion fate is moved by what we truly want; yes, in the moment of pure unalterable rampage I wanted it all to go away, to wake up and have everything be as it should’ve been; perfect. Yet, in the honesty of that matter I didn’t want to change a thing.
    If life in its entirety is “what we make it” and ever so obviously we’ve brought the total damnation upon ourselves, what is there to say about those who live in the damnation created by generations before them? The damnation placed upon them by generational curse? Those whom are forced to exist with a future with nothing but suffering in store? If we truly have no control “fate” as they call it, why does everyone say, “Take control of your life”? If there is nothing to take control over, because fate has its own goal to reach and honestly doesn’t give two s***s about anything that has to do with your goals, what are we to do? Make ourselves believe we have control? Play pretend? In all brutal honesty we can only take control over what’s ours to take, and in the end the only thing we have control over is ourselves. That ever so totally human emotion of simply screaming in pure rage is the only thing we have any control over, but letting ourselves indulge this human emotion would make us feel weak. Like we truly have no control, so instead of letting ourselves scream and cry and vomit with this pure unalterable rage, we smile. We smile to keep in control of ourselves, to trick ourselves into believing we actually have any control of anything because in the blunt light of it; we don’t. We may sometimes go to the extremes in proving ourselves we’re in control; simply shutting down, filling up taking everything in leaving nothing out, locking it away until one day you simply explode. This in many, many ways is really dangerous. Not letting anyone in either simply put as self isolation. Articulately put being ever so truly alone, to prove to yourself you can survive without any well intending people around you as a crutch, without your voice of reason or tongue of thought. This is why we fear the silence; it smacks you in the face with all of your imperfections and makes you ever so forcefully you fall into the deep dark water of all those memories you told yourself to forget, which create an anchor that’s oh so conveniently wrapped around your neck. As you’re plummeting, not breathing simply thinking of what you would be doing right now if your life was perfect and then remembering it isn’t. Closing your eyes, letting the deep dark water fill your lungs, not struggling because you know it would be pointless death is awaiting and you truly don’t mind. Yet as soon as you hit the bottom, your anchor disappears and you ever so surely float to the top. As you hit the dry land of your mind; your emotional sanity, you are resuscitated, and you think to yourself, “D**n, that was so close… Obviously not close enough… Why did I come back? Why wouldn’t I go away?”