I watched the stars falling from the sky, beacons of heavenly light tumbling from the night. I felt the ground rumbling as the fiery stones struck it, the vibrations shaking me in my chair. Everyone was hiding underground, but I'd rather sit out here, by the open window. It was beautiful, things that most probably would never ever happen to any of us.
The starfalling was amazing, but the grounds shook as they plummeted into the solid earth. I was still watching. The world is crumbling on me, on the world itself. But who cares about the world? I know I don't. There are more important things to care about, like how we never get to see so many shooting stars in one night, or if we'd ever live past this to see another day.
One tiny star flew across my sky, and I wished upon the little speck of the sun. A fiery glow ws all that lingered of it as it crashed into the ground and shook my world. My head was pounding, and I was perspiring non stop. But it was too beautiful to look away, too beautiful to cry because my tears might sizzle out the fire.
I heard people screaming, quivering in fear as the stars tumbled out from the sky. Fires raged across from house to house, engulfing everything in it's path in a mass of heat and blinding light. People sound scared, like they fear these monstrous things. But what's there to fear about the beauty in the stars ?
It was a flare of some form of guiding hope, leading us to somewhere, finally, in our worthless lives. So, it's okay. I'm waiting for my death, waiting for a lucky star to drop out from the sky and hit me, burning me alive. It's worth the wait. Sometimes, life flickers out in the most unique of ways. What could be better than the death at those pretty stars?
It is a painful death, yes, I think I can see that. But don't you think it's a beautiful death? It is bright, and dazzling, making you shield your eyes because of how much it fills them with light and tears, and beauty beyond anything like it. But is it fate that takes my life and not because of the stars? I look away. What if I die before the stars manage to kill me? And what becomes of my happy ending and my beautiful death?
Is fate measured by each second from the fragile hands on the clock? Or is it crafted to fit every movement in our body? Has fate existed since we first took our breaths, or does it only come when we take our last? Fate is such an atrocious thing created by man, coming to being only by the name and definition that we have given them. What if we didn't know what was fate?
Would we be lost? Is fate what guides us through, knowing that there will always be a way. Is fate the only thing that makes us live? Try imagining if we didn't know fate, or destiny. Would our lives be any different? It doesn't matter now. The stars are still falling from the sky. And we cannot change what we know.
What if fate wasn't set in stone, as some of us may have presumed? What if it was changing every second? A fraction of our movements changing our whole future, just by moving our finger a bit to the right or to the left. Would it have changed anything, or is it too miniscule to make a dent in our future?
There are millions of possibilites to our futures. We carved them with our every movement, every fragment of who we are, and what we've become. One move different and the world changes. Maybe if we hadn't done something, the world might have turned purple or turned the tigers blue. Every little thing we do, we would have changed the millions of possiblities we have created by our own hands. And with billions of us doing billions of things in the whole world, who's to say there are more possiblities than just calling it fate?
What if our fates weren't sealed, and are as versatile and adaptable as the waves in the sea, or the clouds in the sky? Then we are the ones who molded our lives, and our deaths cannot be blamed by this ghastly thing we call fate. Then we are more responsible for our actions, because we cannot depend on fate to help us or bring us down.
But what if our every movements are the ones that make fate real? If what we do is exactly as how fate had wanted us to, every breath, every thought. Planned and set in stone by someone who is greater than we've ever know. We might have thought of taking a pencil from the table, but to change fate, we decided against it. Was that an attempt to change what we know of fate, or was that what fate had already decided?
My thoughts bounced back on forth in my mind, slamming themselves against the hollow of my skull. But I'm still watching the stars fall. I'm watching the sky turn purple with hue. The clouds were dark and misty, and the stars are falling and falling. Smoke was billowing in the wind, shooting out from the alighted stones. It is still beautiful, whether or not they are causing us humans to perish.
I want my life to end beautifully, with a miracle seen only once with the naked eye. I don't want fate to steal my last breath before my fingers touched the glistening stars that shone like the sun. I needed to be sure that I was going by my own will and not by those that were written in stone.
So, I turned back.
I turned my back to the picturesque beauty, feeling tears sliding down my cheek. I ran from the open window and the millions of stars crashing from the sky. I ducked and cowered with the scared souls, hiding in the darkest corner of the house, shutting my ears and willing the tears away. Maybe it's better to shield ourselves from what we are afraid to know. Maybe it's better to live everyday without knowing what could come the next.
So, I'm hiding myself from my death, and what might infuriate it. I don't want it anymore, because my death is no longer beautiful. It is a valiant battle for the truth of this obscure word, an impossible war to win.
We're all waiting. Waiting for fate to take our lives or for our attempts to surpass it.
Nicole (:
No comments:
Post a Comment