A hidden fate

No matter which is true and which is false, our belief is always stronger than our reality.

Believe it or not, there used to be a time when the boy lived according to the ideal he believed in and thought innocently that the world was just simple and straightforward in that way.

It was a mistake, yes, a terrible mistake. But he only showed who he really was at that time, without reading into anyone’s thoughts. He used to smile, to laugh, and to enjoy a life with such a simple and honest mind.

Until one day, he failed from the natural balance, due to the imperfect world. He was criticized for his natural actions, was betrayed by his natural instincts; he felt pains, grieves, cries, and he tried, tried, and tried – to forget, to move on. But that cycle just repeated itself endlessly, in a way that might have told him to reflect all the things in his early life and change himself. For the good or the bad, who knows, just change. He had no way but to give up the ideal, without any notice that he did have his own ideal.

Before the boy realized it, his body had already endured so many diseases and illnesses, and for some vague reason, he got tired of the nature he was living in. His health was deeply affected, and the time he came to the doctors could be compared to the time he stayed at home. Gradually, the antiseptic smell of the atmosphere in a medical room tended to be a familiar odor, which could calm his heart effectively against the stress from outside. He hated his sickness, but he owed it a great debt for letting him escape from the reality which he had grown weary enough to see.

Unfortunately, although the reality was becoming weaker day by day to him, he still did not acknowledge anything which was getting stronger from the inside. In a world obeying the laws of physics, nothing just disappears or changes itself for no feedback. In other words, the boy still knew nothing, even after giving up his early way of living.

Things just kept going on, and the boy also kept up his speed according to the flowing of life, choosing his own passion to live on. He made friends, hobbies, and even praises, prizes, for himself. It turned out to be a long time in which the boy naturally let things pass and only focus on the ‘focus’. Maybe, just maybe, nothing could stop him and disturb his life as long as he moved on like that. As long as there was still some space ahead, all he needed to do was to take a step forward, and nothing could be able to stifle him anymore.

Yes, that sounds good, right? We all have heard countless stories about heroes who never gave up, and never stopped to settle. They always kept continuing what they believed that they had to take responsibilities for, and in the end, hard work paid off, is that so?

It would be natural to assume that if the boy just kept moving forward no matter what it took, then he could get what he truly deserved. In fact, he did think like that during those times and silently overcame his everlasting disease as long as the pains, the challenges people showed before his eyes, in order to grab the best results. Yes, with all his might, he had to take the best …

For what?

Time felt like it had stopped for a while. A long while.

He had done his best to beat the reality before him, to strike forward, to reach a higher point in his life. Yet, for what? There was something crucial missing, and why was that? What could it be?

Why could I not realize it? What is this feeling? Am I tired, am I sick again? 

Did Winter come again? To challenge my body and mind?

I just hate it, I knew that. I always …

There was truly something mystic that his heart suppressed from the inside without letting him know. He just did everything he could himself, but never enough.

Because that everything was just an illusion. He did not have any base to rely on when he thought of that word. And which could be regarded as the base for himself? What could stand for what he had always been doing up to that point? He kept moving forward, that’s the truth, but nothing more, nothing less. How could he endure all the things he faced and still move on for no reason? He was not a machine, or a beast, or some kind of moron who had lost his mind. Then, what was his belief, what was his …

Ideal?

“Yes, you’re done. Now you can go home and take some rest. You don’t need to come here anymore.” – a doctor said.

“How come in Winter that you could still be so well like that? It is incredible. Though there are some clear reasons for that, is it totally like a miracle?”

“Is that what you write? How is that possible, this drama of thoughts?”

“You’re peculiar.”

[…]

Please understand this, I’m totally fine. Just believe me.

With that short monologue, the boy sighed. He decided to stifle that thought, and quietly watch his ongoing life.

The disease had gone. The illness had perished. And one thing, the most precious ever, had returned. ‘Everything’ used to be an illusion, but became everything once again. All was due to that fateful comeback. He should have been overjoyed, yet he still seemed to remain as usual, as if nothing had happened so that people only could feel strange.

That was his ideal. After such a long decade, it appeared brilliantly.

That one, and only, antiseptic faith was reborn, along with a God.

The boy hardly prayed, yet he saw so much through his devoted insights.

___

The blessed tears flow, full of purities.

Capricorn 77

 

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