“The year was 1941, I was eight years old and far, far too young.”
Usually, I am content. But, sometimes I wonder; wander, rather. My days are spent contemplating the way my life could have been. While reminiscing about my childhood, I remember seeing a show that brought a paradox into my world. If our world is already preordained, then how is it possible for us to make our own choices? The show brought up the theory of two realties for each decision in our lives. If you chose one way, your path changed in accordance, and vice versa. Perhaps I’m too mathematically minded; 3 + 3 always equals 6 to me. Clearly, there are people who will find a way to make the previous equation equal 4 or 7…unfortunately, I typically can only see life in this way.
Further, my family lives so oppositely from the way I’ve been told to live; (that may be an exaggeration, but it surely seems that way.) So, where am I left to go? Am I but a wandering child? I’ve mentioned before that I detest their habits, but it would be so much more to show them what it feels like to me. Having to lie about everything in order to keep the family away from question; pretending that I have this blissful, fairytale life. It isn’t fair. I shouldn’t have to cover for their idiotic mistakes and choices. But, for some reason I still do. I need to break out and be free. Aggression and revenge have sowed their seeds deep within me and it is beyond time for those seeds to flower. A rebellious life…what more can I do alone? Searching for way to show them the pain I’ve endured, I come up short too often. No longer.
determined,
-adagio-
