The Words I Never Said // A Collection of Essays

Letter #4 // Returning to a changing self

Dear Friend,

Today I'll start my letter to you with this quote:

"Do I believe in fate? I don't know. I'd like to say I don't. That would be the most rational answer. On the other hand, it's hard to believe that night was a simple coincidence. If coincidences contain such immense power to completely turn people's lives around, does it even matter if we call them coincidences or fate?"

These words I wrote myself. I used them to start my new novel, hints of which had been boiling in my insides for, perhaps, a month now. It deserved a body, a form of some kind, even if that body or form is simply a jumble of ones and zeroes. And right after thinking that, I remembered you. I remembered not having written to you for a while. Oh, how much I've discovered over that time!

So, in which do you choose to believe: in fate or in coincidences? In universal synchronicity or in uncontrollably expanding entropy? Whichever you choose, I'll say: "I very much agree." Because the way I see it, these two things are inseparable from each other. Fate wouldn't exist without those meaningless moments that point us in a specific direction. Accidents and coincidences wouldn't have a purpose anymore if it wasn't for the trifles, which linearly followed after one another and brought one to the present moment, which happened only in that exact way that they did, which, in other words, were fated, as in they undebatably determined something that went after them. What do you think of that? I think that if, at any point in time, you'll be reading this letter, that'll be the most blissful and fateful accident I could wish for.

I think I have a clue into why it's so hard for me to help this or other novels of mine see the light of day. The last time I wrote to you was a month ago, and I was horrifically different. Just someone else entirely. And yet so little time has passed. I feel as though I'm flying in a spaceship at the speed of light, and my skin and muscle tissues are being separated from my skeleton one fiber at a time. That was how clearly I experienced my role as an ever-changing variable, I even lost all hope or will to shape my identity. It'd be just as hopeless if one tried keeping a scoop of sand in their palms without a single grain falling past their fingers. Once I let myself float in my existence this way, I began learning like mad. How I wish to express all of it in words! Unfortunately, single distinct thoughts are just jumping around in my brain erratically, neurons are not connecting with each other; I have so many things to say that I'm unable to say anything...

I have to admit, right since the beginning of spring, when the fates of all humans collectively did a backflip, my most vicious enemy was loneliness. How silly. Could a soul traveler, an introvert, or an explorer of the inner world experience loneliness? Apparently, they could. Otherwise, I, being all of them and more, wouldn't be here writing to you.

This dilemma rises from an inner conflict as well. Two opposing poles, differing in their origin - one emerges from the depths of the soul, and the other is birthed by the destructive ego that's taking care of what type of thinking is a socially acceptable norm. There's one problem though: I have no idea, which side is which.

The first pole of the conflict comforts me, reminds me about the existence of fate, synchronicity, and right moments, and prevents me from lowering my standards just so I could ease the hardships of isolation. The fact I'm alone is not an obstacle, it's a lesson, and when the time is right, into my life will come people, whom I'll be able to love and who will love me. All I need is to wait and live in the moment, to trust, and to feel gratitude.

The second pole of the conflict is not that drastically different from the first one, but its arguments are firmly supported. If everything is fated, I can never change the future. I only have the now, the present. So the people that are in my life currently are all the people I should care about now. Pestering the Universe for more and dreaming of a hypothetical soul family is pointless when right beside me are people who have just as much to teach me as I have to teach them. Moreover, how can I be so sure these people who surround me at this point in my life aren't my soul family? Aren't I, by denying my connection to them and viewing myself as this "lone warrior", simply acting like an egocentric fool? How could I not end up alone with this mindset? After all, there could be people who don't think of me this way. Perhaps for someone, whom I don't see as close, I am in fact a soul friend. What then?

Forgive me, my dear Friend, it's already late. I don't feel I'm effectively maintaining my connection to basic logic. Putting sentences together is hard. I just ate a buckwheat rice cake with peanut butter. I'm sleepy. But that's so not fair! I have so much to tell you and here my brain is slowly shutting down. I still have zero clue which side of the conflict, fate or coincidences, solitude or fellowship, is mine and which belongs to my ego. However, I think the fact I managed to discern between those two origins and not identify with the latter foreshadows further personality development and progress. I'm so excited! There are so many wonderful life moments, experiences, joys waiting in front of me, I'll see and learn so many things... oh goodness, can you even imagine how many things I still don't know?! How many things there, in the future, await! How beautiful existence on this flawed lump of jumbles of rocks and chemical elements is!

I'll try to write as soon as I can. And now I'll go to sleep.

Goodnight.

- Your Friend

(August 6th, 2020)