"do you believe in fate?"
"not sure how you want me to respond to that."
"I want you to respond in any way that you feel necessary."
"do you believe in fate?"
"this isn't about me."
"you asked me to respond in a way I feel necessary. this is what I feel is necessary."
"no, I don't believe in fate."
"neither do I."
Lie.
this was common. she would always try to get me to speak my mind. why would I speak my mind when it always results in the same thing.
rejection.
my greatest fear.
the point of the matter at hand is yes, I do believe in fate. look at me. I'm a 17 year old boy. I'm gay. apparently, I'm sick. I need something to blame, so fate is welcomed here.
never in a million years did I think I'd end up like this. when you're little, you think you're invincible. you never think the world is gonna be against you, in everything that you do. you don't think people will hate every word that spews from your mouth. you definitely don't think you'll be at your happiest when you're in the attic of your aunt's house, yet here you are.
am I happy? no.
am I living? barely.
would I end it all right now?
let's leave that to fate.
