Most of the time I wonder how much of our life is fate, and how much is a result of conscious decision making. Do we actually have any control, are our well-thought-out plans just a big ruse, what happens if I just stop thinking and start acting without discretion tomorrow?
Typically my rash decisions leave me in hot water, but I also think that has to do in part with the genuine unluckiness that I'm beginning to think is not a phase, but an actual trait of mine.
I look down at my hands, my bent fingers searching for the words to communicate this sense of utter uselessness I feel at times, because as I think deeper, it really does feel as if the best things happen by chance, and that maybe all I'm doing is waiting for fate to take its course.
And you think, you hope for at least, that your fate is one of golden memories, laughter, and happiness. We are all adults here though, and all know that bad things happen. I think about the pain that has littered my pathway, and it's nothing compared to what I feel is yet to come. I know there is more waiting for me.
It's hard to breathe beauty into something that feels so pessimistic. It's difficult to find a delicate way to say I think that not all fates will end with a life well-lived. So I won't. And instead I'll try to say that I think, most of the time, it is not what we choose to do with our lives, but how we choose to live what experiences come our way.
It is not about what you can make of yourself, but more about the kind of character you show when your world is turned upside down. We all know the time will come when fate will overshadow any intentions you had for your life.