My existence is a constant struggle against accepting my past and preparing for my future.
I can't say that I'm happy to be here. I find single moments, on occasion, or very rarely, a sequence of moments, that make everything worthwhile; but for the most part, I'm extremely unhappy. It's not so much that I reminisce, more so that I dwell on the past. There are things in my past that I'd much rather forget and move on from, not to mention the thoughts that I'd like to escape.
It sometimes feels like there's another person inhabiting my body, just living to sabotage my entire future, working their way in, one momentary decision at a time, and frankly, I'm both accepting and rejecting this individual every time one of these moments comes up. It's cliché, but I almost as if I'm some kind of walking contradiction, a paradox of success and failure and a disarray of useless thoughts compiled in this mass of poorly developed ideas. I wonder how I've survived this long just about every day, frankly, and with a past rife in suicidal behaviours, I don't think it's unwarranted.
This leads me into some of the biggest questions that I have for the universe. What is fate? What is predestination? Is it possible for free will to exist within the framework of fate? Is fate the same thing as determinism? Do I have a destiny, and if so, do I have any control over it? And perhaps most importantly, can I someday be happy?
Because I'm tired of waking up, minutes before my alarm, talking to friends in my dreams about how inauthentic my reality is. I think it's time to transcend my past, to evolve into the person that I wish I was.
I exist. My past does not, anymore. So why is that such a difficult truth for me to accept?
