Do you ever wonder why some things happen and some things don’t? Why you come across someone who is to mean nothing to you and lose another that is to mean everything? It has the appearance of a cycle.. a pattern that cannot be identified or predicted. Never-ending. Everlasting. Daunting at times. Haunting at others. It is marvelously terrifying in truth. And heroically deceitful in fiction. Its mischief lies in its inevitable ability to make you believe you have some sort of control, whether through action, inaction, words, silence, regret or faith. However, especially the latter breeds a sort of discontent within my soul, for I hear of this all too often. What is more worthy of fear than to believe in something as some sort of plan for the unforeseen.. a contingency plan perhaps? To pour only half of one’s heart into something just in case that into which the other half is poured is an ominous mistake? For what is a half a heart but no heart at all? What is a partial soul but no soul at all? In the same way, then, one could infer that if all of one’s heart is emptied into something or someone, a memory or a hope, a regret or a gratitude, then there is no more heart to be given to others of the same nature. This is to say, if one’s present being lies in the pain of a past regret, what possible hope can he have for the future? None. Without the emptying of one’s mind, body and soul into one cause, one belief, one matter, he lives with only pieces of each, unable to sustain his true self. Only in this offering is the imperceptible pattern of friends and unfriends, happenings and unhappenings, fully accepted in its unmistakable, relentless nature for what comes and does not come is forever inept to be understood.
- Jessica Mary
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