Balancing Out

The thoughts of an insomniac who thinks she knows how to counter-think.

There are the stories we tell; the stories we smile about and take pride in.  The stories about leaving home, driving away and plans to never look back, but a lot of the time we do.  The one where we count the inches of hair that grow within the months after dying it, a few about a new dress or shirt, some about good food and cheap jokes.  Of the friends we can’t really call friends in the realest of realities, but we talk of them as if they were perfect…

Because in those moments, they were.

And then there are the stories we keep locked away in the deepest corners of our minds within the tightest sealed boxes.  The stories of how the open window slams the door constantly, of how the fan makes the things on the walls bang and it’s all very annoying.  The story where people ask about those in the photographs and you choke out an unsure answer even if it’s the fact; “My brother.”  The ones of dark nights of screaming angry words and pushing and shoving; of hitting and hurting, of bruises and burning.  Of broken things; of broken promises and hearts; of loss.

But it is often said that in the grand scheme of things, they all balance out.  Somehow, by some cosmic, uncontrolled force, it all “tends to balance out.”  Maybe my mind just highlights the bad too much.  Maybe I’m wrong, but maybe I’m right.

What if we could go back and stop things from happening, make the right things happen; do it better.  No one is any wiser than after it all happens.  There is no such thing as 100% prevention.  This universe functions on random and what is going to happen will happen.

So in the truest of truths, I’m right and nothing balances out.

Author's Note

I'm not quite sure what category this should go under, do correct me if I'm wrong.