In a sudden gust of nostalgia, I remember one of my favorite poems since childhood, Invictus. There's a line in that poem that heavily reminds me of my life's status quo (please pardon the syntax):
"It matters not how straight the gate, how charged with punishment the scroll./ I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul" ~William Earnest Henley
Here's the thing. The gate is not only rusted, but the road getting there is as crooked and zig-zaggy as hell. The destination is also littered with questions. One thought nagging me is the legitimacy of being a "master." I mean, to what extent can you conquer your fate? How much will or self-control should you exert in order to navigate your soul towards the reality you seek?
Who knows.
What I do know is that...
It's easier said than done. Self-sufficiency, as of the moment, is but a pipe dream. I just want to pretend I'm a potato salad for the time being. Please let me enjoy the anarchy and chaos of my mind until clarity sets in. Better noisy than empty.
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| Lookie, lookie. It's ME! Ain't I yummy? You bet! |
