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Life seems to be a matrix of choices.  How we decide to choose is our own problem.  I think for the people who realize this, life becomes a lot more fragile.  Sometimes I get lost in my own head for hours just because of all the millions upon trillions of different scenarios, lives, minds, and forks in the road.  Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about how other people make choices.  It’s not that complicated, really.  We’re conditioned to make choices in the manner that we do, it seems.  It gives a bit of predictability to life.  The room for error decreases the more you get to know a person.  It seems that the number of choices can be limited to a few thousand instead of a billion.  What does it really matter if you can predict, though?  Should it stop me from acting, from socializing, from following my fucked up mind?  I really don’t believe in fate.  Destiny is an easy way out for people too afraid to realize their agency.  The moment you open your mind to the possibility of self-control of the future is the same moment you realize how incredibly important and at the same time incredibly unimportant everything is.  Nothing and everything matters.  It’s all in the words, it’s all in the moves.  In 2,000 years history will have been decided by an uncountable number of different choices made by an infinite number of people.  Take some fucking ownership of your life.  Or sit and freak out about it for a while.  That’s what I do.  The longer we sit and lie dormant, the less of an impact on anything we make, which is more of an impact.  I’m talking in circles and making no sense.  I’m writing to get things off my chest that I’m not writing because I don’t know who reads this.  It’s all in the words, in the thoughts, in the moves, in the emotions.  Emotions are another thing altogether.  Love is a powerful thing, but that doesn’t mean it actually exists.

I’m ready for it to be fall. I am ready for summer to be over.

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