Sometimes you want to reach out and ask the universe for help. You wonder if you shout, if anyone will hear you, if anyone will come. But your problems aren’t the universe’s problem and your shouts get lost in the fog that surrounds the worlds and worlds of other problems and questions.
You wonder about strength, you wonder why people talk about it so much. Why do people talk about having it, about achieving it, about acquiring it, when the truth is they had it anyway. They did and you did and we did and sometimes strength isn’t what you’re looking for after all. It’s something more. It’s the knowledge to know that some things are beyond you. It’s the acceptance that your shouts at the universe will go unheard, that the questions you demand answers for will remain unresolved.
This then is the battle.
That and looking yourself in the mirror and knowing that where you are is the result of your actions. If you are able to look your eyes in the mirror then you can proceed. If you can’t meet your gaze, then something’s not right. Maybe you messed up. Maybe it’s the world that messed up. But if you look away then you’re giving in.
But really the problem is you’ve changed, and now the reflection in the mirror isn’t the one you have in your mind’s eye. The universe has changed you. Your decisions have changed you. Something happened to you and you’ll never be the same now, and perhaps it’s difficult to incorporate that into the image you see staring back at you.
And when bitterness floods your throat and winter wind rattles through your bones you stop asking the universe your questions. It’s not a good companion, anyway. It never answers you back. You’re sick of the sly mysticism, the flirtatious silence.
A part of you is frozen but the rest of you can function and that’s what’s important. You tell yourself to stop asking questions, to stop demanding, to keep the anger at bay, to stop thinking at all because you need some peace and quiet in your brain, for just a short while.
And through it all, you raise a clenched fist at the sky and tell it you don’t want to be treated that way anymore, that you’ve had enough of its lousy games. Find another companion. This one has better things to do.