Why.A Story by MarinaIt was an eerie feeling that came over me, I hadn’t given it
much thought before. But just that one moment, it popped into my mind that
maybe nothing ever really mattered. What I ran from, what I ran towards. I’ve
gained my share of scars and have been handed my share of bandages by caring
people, too. Sometimes a smile was more than enough, or a harsh word more than
intended. I somewhat decided I had had enough of it. The constant weighing of
feelings, burdens, rewards. There seemed no balance in it all, it was a mere
pile of combinations, of everything, of all of ever. And my part in this? I was
all once, twice, more often. A cause, a solution, a bystander, a happenstance.
To the top of my list quickly floated the word coincidental. Nothing seemed
planned, who would? Planned, meant fake. Coincidentally, I was part of everything.
As everyone who wasn’t me, had every same chance of being there in my stead.
Choices then quickly followed. I chose, somewhere, at some point in my life, to
be on the path I’m on now, that somehow lead me to be in these situations.
Where I again am a cause, a solution, a bystander, a happenstance. Or in other
situations, of no seemingly importance at all whatsoever. And to draw a conclusion,
one could quickly say, “and that is fine.” But was it, really? Who decided that
life, as is, as it stands, as I stand, as we all are, right now in this moment,
is just “fine” because it is? That
person wasn’t me. I simply caught the waves as they rolled towards me,
sometimes over me, sometimes viewed from a distance as they passed me. Sometimes,
sometimes drowned me. And in whose eyes is such an overwhelming thing, “just
fine”? Is it the objector that sees our strength and what we gain from our falls?
Who sees what we push up when all caves in on top of us? Is it the objector,
who fails to see the damage we take as we push through what we’re not built to
carry? Now not accepting this as fine, is not meant to mean my wallowing in
self-pity to take control of my view. So keeping that in mind, is it all,
really, just fine? Roll with the punches, roll with the waves, drown and pray
for a stretched out hand and be said hand for someone drowning, too? But if all
is coincidental, who is to say there aren’t other eyes observing the ones we
reach our hands out to. And in this case, our help is but a choice to be accepted,
unnecessary yet welcome just the same. The meaning of it all is, I suppose, as
much a guess to me as why the trees weren’t made to be blue instead of green.
Why our color spectrum even exists to begin with. Or why anything exists, for
that matter. As I digress, into further thoughts of why, fueled by confusion I
trip over in my haste, to conclude something not to be concluded, I wonder if
it’s all just fine the way it is. © 2013 Marina |
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Added on December 31, 2013 Last Updated on December 31, 2013 |