I don't believe in fate. I don't like the idea that somewhere out there, my entire wasted life is mapped out for me by some unknown higher being. The idea that we have no control over our lives; that everything is pre-destined, is abhorrent to me. I am the one in charge, me. Nobody else tells me what to do and I certainly don't follow any set path. I walk alone. And I like it that way.
Love. Luck. Fate. Destiny. Lotto. The entire world is filled with things nobody believes in. Who knows if it was something they learnt or something they just decided or maybe something that happened to them? These invisible forces mean nothing in this culturally devoid, cynical society we have created for ourselves. It is the eternal question of every philosophy student. Is this planet kept functioning by a series of happy coincidences or are we just pawns in the biggest chess game of all time?
Have you ever noticed how memory becomes a blur of images? I don't remember when we first met; the day, the time, the venue. All I seem to recall is the faded stain on my gypsy skirt, the taste of vodka and apple juice, the smell of French cigarettes, my chipped green nail varnish, the damp spot on your sleeve, the pollen in your hair, the laughter in your eyes and something untouchable on the breeze. It was nothing then. The barrenness of meaning; empty words of music, movies and the universe, returning to our normal lives with a handshake and a dry kiss on the cheek, a return to nothingness.
But time passed.
An ocean of events swelled and crashed between us but neither of us spoke about the waves. We both ordered a whisky and I laughed at our excellent taste in alcoholic beverages. Our words were no longer stilted, awkward and empty but filled with laughter and similarity; The Ramones, Star Wars, Stephen King. We were both reading the same book and I smiled when you mentioned Fate. I couldn't help but love your naivety, your startling innocence when it came to that world. You saw Fate drawing us back together and I saw a coincidence.
But time passed.
And I love the fact that we both sleep in red. You let me read a chapter before we switch the lights off. You understand that I need to be independent, you let me say "I don't need you" because we both know they're just words. Empty, meaningless words. And I still love your innocence and the way you believe in destiny, I don't see it as naïve anymore, I just see it as you. Who knew? The guy who believed in everything and the girl who believed in nothing?