Of normalcy and the fate yet to become

In hindsight it could not have gone any other way. This silly fate of mine, a fate I am yet to understand, this idea of fate I don´t believe in. This fate of mine that unravels itself when dawn strikes, when the first light of day is upon me. This fate, built on prose and music, a fate written down, words edging on each other, not knowing where they belong. Words like my thoughts. Words of a page, words belonging to a narrative too large for them to understand. That is my fate. I know I should not drink, or smoke, or dance to the music in my head. And yet, when all the cards are on the table and I have nothing left to bet, the music in my head, and the smokes and the glass of champagne have pulled me out of more trouble than living a quiet and simple life has.

The quiet and the simple have always been pretend. They remind me of playing house in the woods when I was eight years old. It was beautiful and magical, until the bell for class went off. That is the quiet and the simple, beautiful and magical until the bell goes off. And then duty and responsibility occupy my mind, and the wires spark, the little quiet songs become louder. It has been that way all along, since I can remember, always. Eyes wide open, never alone. The sad times they are the underwhelmed mind, when nothing excites me anymore. Of course I would want to die then, who would want to live when there is no fire burning. Those are the times when my bed is the only space I can possibly occupy, the only space I belong in. How impossibly pathetic is that? The sun may be shining, the moon and the stars can be bright and beautiful and poor little me can barely leave that lonely space.

That is the quiet and the simple the drugs give me, the normalcy they somehow provide, even if it is all pretend, it is all I can do sometimes. I take the magic potions the doctors give me and I can sleep when all my mind wants is to dance away many sunrises; they make fake smiles real, eventually. And then I can speak again, and write, and live longer than what I expected. So this fate of mine, blue and bright, may turn grey at times. Yet it has become unknown, thankfully. Moments of darkness overcome me and thoughts of endings become me sometimes, but I have learned to let them pass and not dwell. Moments of infinite colours and quiet trembles still come and ago, those are a true struggle to let go. They are often what I live for, the blessing of who I am. But they are followed by a painful darkness, no matter how hard I try to keep hold of them, they always dissipate. And so, in spite of my best efforts I must embrace the normalcy I despise, that is the only way I will survive, just so I can make this unknown fate become.