the art of letting go

eighteen - evolution

the art of evolution

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The concept of time always baffled me. How quickly things could change, how much difference a split second could make. One moment, you could be absolutely fine. Happy, enjoying yourself, living in a world alongside your family and friends. Content with your existence. The next, everything could change. You could lose people, you could lose yourself. One split second and everything can erupt, and you're just left with a pile of ashes to search through, reminiscing on a time that'll never exist again. Lost, and alone, and scared.

We lack so much control. Life and death. Happiness and sadness. They're not necessarily factors within our grasp, that we can move and mold to our greatest content. We're powerless.

That loss of power drives people. People behave recklessly, drink themselves into an oblivion just to have some shred of power back over their lives. It's about control. Like Brayden and his partying, or Saint with his baking. Being given a choice allows that ownership, you behave in ways that you want to, to seek your own happiness. Whether that choice is dangerous or not. That was one of the reasons why I always thought Nico fought. He craved that power. Power over himself, a choice in a world that took so much away from him. He wanted a choice in what happened to him, and when, and why.

A part of me ardently believed that he became addicted to that pain, all those years ago. He seeked the thrill that it brought him, the adrenaline rush with the harsh comedown. It was blunt, and brazen, and bold in a way that not a lot of 'hobbies' can be, if you can even describe it in that manner. There was a time when he was fighting almost every day, despite Brayden's insistence.

In the same thought, I found it interesting how suddenly Nico's priorities changed once he found out that Kaitlin was pregnant. Suddenly, he was fighting for an entirely different reason with a different mindset. He didn't throw himself into every fight recklessly and relentlessly. He became smart, strategic in the way he planned them out. He wanted the money to support his son, and wasn't willing to get permanently hurt in the battle.

We change based on our surroundings. It's human nature. Evolution.

We evolve alongside our environment. We grow, and adapt, and mature until we're stable.

Fallen Temple's music swept through the Bakery as I hummed the melody, helping me drown down the sound of the rain pelting outside. I used the cloth in my hand to help sanitize the tables, wiping them down so they'd be ready for when Hendrix opened up tomorrow. It was after hours, but Drix had asked me to help her close up so she could take her new girlfriend out. I was taking my time, glad to have the time away from studying and Shaylah's dramatics. It was well needed, and listening to Temple always seemed to help. Especially when I could hear my brother's distinctive accent coming through on his verses, and the familiarity of Sacha's vocals.

I liked being on my own, especially in Dexter's Bakery. It gave my time to think in a way that I've never found anywhere else. Dexter's was one of the first places that I went with Kareem once he found me, where I met Saint for the first time, the place where I found my new family. This is normally the time where I can dissociate away from what's outside these pastel-painted walls. But this time, all I could think about was the beaten-down gym in Brooklyn, where I knew Nico would be fighting tonight. I have so many memories of that building. Nights full of blood, and cheers, and drunk men. Nico might've thrived in that environment, that might've been the best place to get his career started. But it didn't mean the people were any good.

Brayden had invited Shaylah and Frankie tonight, and I'd decided not to go. Nico had been fighting every Friday night for the past two weeks, and I only knew he'd won because of Shaylah's texts and Brayden's Snapchat's recording the winning knockouts.