Fated Love
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I've never believed in love at first sight. To believe in that would almost mean admitting that fate is real and alive. That's something I'm unwilling to do. I live in a world where the storybook love vastly differs from what reality calls love. All the little caveats I've gathered up over the years tell me how, exactly, love works. You see, despite my staunch stance in not believing fated love exists, my desire for love gives it a chance anyways. In a way, it's madness, much like trying fast-food every time and thinking it'll satisfy. Yes, I'm the guy who looks into mere coincidences and pitch them as signs of divine intervention. I swear by these occurrences, labeling them as whimsical events with reasoning instead of, well, simply whimsical events. Days like these go by fast. I feel confident and invulnerable, though humbled at the surely God-given chance presented to me. This is fated love, a love that has never been more clearly obvious.

Until something happens and there I am, wondering why the world is so damn cruel. I gave it my all. The universe is supposed to take care of the rest. If not now, then when? I crawled out of the hole that had me doubting this stupid love. This is supposed to be the revelation, the story that I tell my friends and family. I envisioned it so vividly. I might have wrote the speech one night before bed.

My mind pictured the ending before the beginning. The first of everything became the must of what will happen. The imagination of the love fueled the absence of it, and with that gave me the faith in something with little merit. You'd think I'd be more guarded by now, after having this happen a countless amount of times. But that's the pull of fated love isn't it? You never really know until you dabble with the lottery ticket.

You bet I'm sad. It all goes back to the love the world wants me to accept: easy and fast. In moments like these, I long for it, wishing I had gone with the supposed logical side. The people down the block seem so much happier than I am. But if  I've ever experienced true love, I think it's of one that is fated. I guess, in the end, it's all about faith.

And love said to me "Oh, ye of little faith."

The futility of my writing

The futility of my writing

The Thing About Success

The Thing About Success