I think it might all be meaningless. This whole time I thought for sure there was divine purpose and greater plan that was just being kept a secret from me, but I’m trying to reconcile why this might not be such a terrible thing.
If there is no destiny, then that means I get to choose. If this is it, then those choices are all that matters. I can throw my hands up and dive face first into a plate of pastrami drying my defeatist tears with buttered bread, sputtering between mouthfuls that none of it matters, or I can say, “well, if this is it, my body my mind, the life I’ve been given, I can, if I’m brave enough, take control.” If I haven’t reached my goals it’s on me, it’s not because the universe is conspiring against me; it’s my choice.
If I get frustrated and give up when I feel like puking after running drills with my fight coach it’s because I chose that, not because “it wasn’t meant to be.”
I can’t control that my hiking trail is going to be closed for 4 months, but I can decide if I use it as an excuse to stop jogging or not.
If there was no fairy dust sprinkled on me as a infant dictating that I am destined for greatness, then I’m the only one who can make that happen and what’s even more beautiful: is if it’s not destiny for me to be a failure then I don’t have to be one.