I no longer believe in the word destiny. I barely believe in myself. "Everything happens for a reason." No, it doesn't. I contradicted that statement easily. Your life is what you make it.
I feel like I've been sitting in a dark cell for ages, waiting for my prince to come and rescue me. But no one has come, and I've wasted my youth in the corner of a room I don't know. And then, as I grow old and frail, I wonder why I never once tried to escape. I never called for help. I never used my heart or my mind to find a way out. I'd always felt there was someone meant to find me, to come to my aid. But it was all a lie. I should have saved myself. But now, it was too late. My body was weak and I'd wasted my strength thinking I'd never need it.
Destiny seems like a false hope to me now. Maybe I'm not supposed to wait for an opportunity; maybe I'm supposed to pursue it instead. Or maybe I'm supposed to create my own. I'd never thought of that before. But maybe it was all up to me. The rest of the world was just a toy, a tool I could use to reach the top. I'd have to try harder from now on. I'd have to strive to get what I wanted.
I found I did believe in destiny, in a way. I believed in one I made myself, and that was enough.