Face to Fate
As I stand on my roof and stare out at the city lights, I wonder how it would be possible not to fall in love with this majestic city. I was in love and love has a habit of making you do outrageous things. In my case, it gave me the strength to listen to my heart.
This entry pre-dates the existence of my journal but this is the story that deserves to be heard. It is because of this story of my life, that all other stories in my life exist.
The second day of August was the day my life turned upside down. The day began with the reading of an email which I hoped to never receive. The first line read ‘Congratulations!’ and my heart sank. For the next 30 seconds or for 30 minutes, I cannot tell, my mind began to jump to the worst conclusions. What would I tell my parents. Would I actually have to move. Was this the right choice. But there was a small, minuscule part of me that could not believe that I did it. That I finally listened to my heart. And it didn’t feel as bad as I thought it would.
There were doubts. Doubts that had been magnified exponentially by this email. And as
I bore witness to those doubts grow within me, I became more certain of my purpose. my shot in the dark had met its mark and this was nothing short of destiny.
For all my life I had been comfortable in having my actions dictated by those who knew better. I was content in thinking that I was a chess piece at the hands of a grand master. But now the moves had begun to unfold and I could finally see across the board. My path was clear and I gripped my fate with both hands and hoped that I wouldn’t have to let go.
My questions tip toed the line where logic met philosophy. I questioned the purpose of my existence. Was it to learn, then earn then spend the rest of my life know that I served my purpose as a microscopic cog in the grand scheme of things? Was that the right choice because it was the safe choice? Safe be damned. What about adventure? What of exploration? What about love and what if I never find it? What if I live my entire life in the regret that I chose to choke the one shred of happiness that had come my way because of something that I had dared to create.
But what if I don’t. What if my chosen path was right and this was one of those fairytales that foolish men weave to escape their own monotony. Maybe I had no right to dream. Dreams are for those who can afford them. And the luxury of failure wasn’t something I could afford. But even with that understanding, why couldn’t I suppress this desire.
I desired that brand of happiness that stemmed from straying away from logic and number. Why didn’t I feel this way when I aced my Accountancy exams. Why didn’t I cry then. Why was I crying now.
I was hooked to this feeling, a junkie begging for another hit. I was addicted and I asked myself if I wanted to be. Should I just leave this in the miscellaneous section of my resume when I apply to Wall Street. Or should I run with this until I reach Madison Avenue.
These questions were hard but the best part was that they didn’t need answering. The mirror held these answers for me. Because underneath the unkempt beard and hollow eyes, lay a child just waiting to paint his imagination. And I would do everything, to make his dream come true.