Skip to main content

Ides of Destiny

Artwork of a woman that seems to be depressed
Image: NY Times

I feel like I'm the victim of a cosmic practical joke that singles out some random soul to torment every now and then. I am traumatised by my own mind, fears and compulsions.

I feel like I am paralysed on the stairs of fate, immobilised by the prospect of my own success, too many ideas to move forward with any particular one.

I feel like I am the happiest and unluckiest man alive. Doomed in a vicious cycle of regret and baited hope. I am unable to get anything done.

I feel like I will wake up dead, not having lived, not having risked, not having lived. Such a pitiful existence, such wasted fodder.

I feel weak, exhausted at the very cusp of ignition, with promise just on the horizon. Second guessing is a fatal flaw, it obliterates destiny by the second. 

I feel like I know the way better than any and yet remain lost in a self imposed maze of hesitancy. Each second wasted ripples in lifetime consequences. What good is a blueprint, if it is cased in despair and despondency?

I feel like I'm sinking and yet buoyed. Every day is unfulfilled, every moment torture. No one to heap the blame on.

I feel like I remember the future but always forget to write. Time claws away at the walls of my soul, inflicting deep scars of regret. How much longer can chaos subsist? Possibility fades into nothingness.  

I feel sick, my malady is trepidation. A seemingly inherent inability to take one step, to decide. Tell me who fears their  own success, who undermines their own progress, who defeats their own purpose?

I feel lost. How many chances can the cosmos grant one wayfarer? How much regret can fill up a bucket?

I feel nothing. I feel everything.


Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

African Champion

Image source:punchng.com Stumbling on a news snippet of the most recent interaction between Israel Adesanya and defending UFC middleweight champion, Dricus Du Plessis, at a pre-fight press conference, it cast my mind back to an earlier  take   on identity. Du Plessis became champion by defeating Sean Strickland whom Adesanya had lost the belt to in 2023. Du Plessis has described himself as the first African UFC champion, side stepping Israel Adesanya, Francis Ngannou and Kamaru Usman, other previous UFC champions whom he says are only of African decent. Du Plessis, for explication is caucasian South African while the others mentioned are black with Nigerian and Cameroonian heritages. He backs up his claim with the explanation that not only is he born and raised in Africa but he also trains with his team in Africa and has always lived and still lives in Africa. This is in contrast with the others, Israel Adesanya for instance who fights as a New Zealander in the UFC. The t...
Post a Comment
Read more

I Am 'Brave'

Image: Expressworks I never gave much thought to the whole brouhaha surrounding Bruce Jenner’s evolution into Caitlyn, I had lumped it into the category of one of those bizarre things that happen frequently in the west. Granted, such things now happen pretty much everywhere else, but I dare say the west has always been known to glamorise such feats.  What got me thinking a little bit more about the whole story was how some groups of people started to praise Bruce for his bravery and courage.  I actually had to look up the meaning of bravery as I began to write this piece. Bravery is described as courageous behaviour or character, bravery was described with synonyms such as  brave spirit or conduct, courage, valour. Yet another source describes it as the quality that allows someone to do things that are dangerous or frightening. I did this so that I could understand why 'bravery' was most used to describe the actions carried out by this sixty five year old ex Olympian...
Post a Comment
Read more

The Fourth Man

Image: Pinclipart The short blade glistened in the sun, it made his eyes water He couldn’t figure out why he hesitated, what made him contemplate WHY!!! He doubted whether he had the right to; he wondered if it was right The cause seemed lost to him He thought of home for a second, the farm where he grew up, it made him feel at peace, such irony; contemplating peace with a dagger in hand The man kneeling before him had hair like that of Ahmid, his younger brother; whom he would give his life for in a heartbeat. He knew now he couldn’t go through with it, a task he had performed with precision many times before, with such swiftness, with such detachment but also with such fear. A morning of ironies it seemed. He found empathy at the most ill opportune of times, courage made his eyes water, bravery made his hands tremble and love made his heart bleed The fourth man in a line of ten, twenty men, ten with seconds to live.  Perhaps now, eleven.
Post a Comment
Read more