Not My Choice

Whether it is disaster or luxury that you see from birth, it isn’t about your control. It isn’t your desire to be exposed to things such as poverty, hopelessness, insensitivity or having been into a privileged family. Your life is a package. The era, the situation, the people around you, your genetics, your authority and reach are all given. Struggling to live the most, the fight for every right to be walking on this ground safe and sound, however, bring differences. Some had to deal with the basic things to survive, some looks for recognition, some tend to be keepers of others (as self-fulfillment) and some tend to just give up or walk away.

I didn’t choose my life.

I might say I was dragged into it helplessly. Growing up and beating every personal record of things I do from day 1 to the nth time, I am used to it. My memory is a time capsule of my own history. That while in a change, of sudden and overwhelming change, I found and lost things and persons, and values and attitudes. All of them made me – strong, stupid, wise, and broken and certainly a warrior of life. I didn’t intend to be a hero, to be a laugh stock, to be someone to compare to, to be someone’s enemy or be home to someone’s arms. I am living what has been given. I am living because I breathe and I have a heart to feel the beat. I came to this world alone. I shall depart alone. The brightness or the dimness of what has happened in between lies to how I choose to stay, even for a while.

Not My Choice

 

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