The glue of society, once tactile is now brittle and dry. It erodes, quickening as time moves on. The fibres straining against the tension. The tension pulling tighter and tighter. Once stable roots, now getting pulled from the earth. The tension heating the atmosphere and burning the uprooted trees.
We are all burning.
I often lie and ponder life. Wonder why I took the doorways and paths that I did. Was it all set out before me, was I pre-determined to take this route, or did I have free will and take a path that I choose freely.
If I was pre-determined do I then have to take responsibility for any of my actions? Is believing that I am guided a cop-out for having agency in my life? Is it a way to resolve the inner personal demons?
I lie awake at night wondering about this. Would it also mean that all the good I have done, matter not, as I couldn’t pick morally whether I should or not? I was just guided to act.
Does following a certain path mean that I have to believe in god and fate? Does free will mean we should all be atheists?
What path should I follow?
We all stand, supposedly together but mostly disunited. We stand in solidarity when the media tells us which side we stand on. We stand as one but only when we know everyone else is doing so.
We leave people to stand alone and forget about them.
Doomed to failure.
Be one of those we forget.
I lie there, the red stretching out across the translucent water like a peacock’s tail. My life ebbing but at the same time more vital than it ever has been. At this moment I more alive than I have ever been. I am truly in control of my destiny.
The moment will last forever, I have finally proven I exist and that I have free will. It is only as I create an ending do I realise that I have the freedom to be, to exist, and to not exist. A choice …
“Allow me one moment.”
It’s my doorstep, why should I? You’ve already imposed yourself on me. Brought yourself to my sanctum and now you feel entitled enough to take up more of my time. If I’d wanted to talk to you, needed your services I would have contacted you. Why did you feel you could walk up my path, knock on my door, and try and impose your will on me? What makes you better than all the people who walk up and down my street and never feel the urge to come to my door? What gave you the right to disturb my day, to knock me out of my stride, to stop me from enjoying my own simple pleasures? Why did you feel it would be okay to come and disturb me? Why are you so entitled?
“Sure,” I replied.