by Szilvia Adler

Created on: July 03, 2010

The truth and lies start with me, start in me. I’m the focal point of life and everything around me; I’m the driving force behind all.

The cat, on the road beside me, paces calmly and seemingly undisturbed. The next move I’ll make will influence him; it is inevitable. It is a simple fact that neither the cat nor I have control over. We are doomed and we depend on each other the moment our roads crossed.

We’re on a collision course, only the intensity of the outcome can now be altered. If I stop walking or if I quicken or if I move at the same speed, it will notice it, if it hasn’t it already.

As soon as we were at each other’s disposal, we were predestined to change each other’s life, be it a cruel beating to death or a gentle stroke; the choice is mine.

Faith is not a choice, but our reaction to it belongs to our private self.

If I would lay awake and walk through my conscious mind, I’m sure I would not be able to count my choices for any given day. If I would walk through all the possibilities, a lifetime wouldn’t be enough to experience all the different outcomes given only for a single day.

However, rather than having all these different outcomes, we stick to the routine of our private and boring lives; those who don’t are outcasts.

A routine is so much easier, requires less energy, less anticipation and perhaps involves less stress. It is the legato path making us happy and whole. This way we don’t have to consider the environment outside our regular sphere; it won’t take up space and time.

I feel exhausted, tired and run-down after not getting what I have yearned and worked for. I’ve put everything aside – the sacrifice was hefty – and it led me nowhere. Feelings of unworthiness, sadness, madness and anger mix in me, they want to surface.

I’ve squashed the bug, which had nothing to do with my emotions but it had come across my being – perhaps at the wrong time – the being, which needed to take revenge. What happens when the bug will not be enough to handle my emotions?

I will go and kill a larger prey, a bigger animal, without measuring the intensity of my actions. The steam has to come out somehow.

I was thinking of running so fast, until I would feel my body, feel it being sore and I’d be unable of doing anything else. Then I would stop, and only then. I would stop, bend down, hold my chest, feel my heartbeat under my hand and realize that I live. I have choices; it will be better next time.

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