Passion, it lies in all of us, sleeping… waiting… and though unwanted… unbidden… it will stir… open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us… guides us… passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we’d know some kind of peace… but we would be hollow… Empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without passion we’d be truly dead. – Joss Whedon
Sometimes, our eyes are open before we ever need question where our feet are going. Give choices to someone who will no doubt, (make the worst choice,) and it’s a ongoing recipe for internal disaster. Maybe the girl is slowly coming to realize the ways in which her heart have spoke to her all along. ..maybe.
Sometimes, I imagine God as a hunched over figure- his hands firmly implanted into his head, in an undying gesture of, “What the hell were you thinking, kiddo?” He’s God, so his hands become magically unplanted for others, but the constant shaking of the head must give him one hell of a headache. Luckily, like a magic wand, he sighs exasperatingly, (even,) and points out a fundamental flaw in my plan. It’s the Ace in his boot- he always has one- and in the moments where I dawdle and remark on, ‘just how hard it is to figure it out,’ he chucks it at me, and his his head goes downward once again.
I dwell in the illicit, the morally bankrupt, the not-quite-sure-if-it’s-a-toy-gun’s of existence. I despise the boring. I am fairly certain, I could be one hell of a homeless crack addict, (because sometimes anything beats the dullingly normal-the only thing that seems bizarre to me.) In truth? I’m probably addicted to the dysfunctional, and I kind of like it. Which isn’t to say, that there are days when I long for apple pies and a sedan, but what I envisioned never became reality- so I learned to adjust to the growth of disease rather than benign. And I learned to like the way filth tasted, not out of wanting something bad for me because I was sick of the good, (Hello- biker boys,) but something with the acid taste because even that somehow began to seem bland. I craved the fire, but couldn’t contain my disappointment when I was burned.
And this time, I saw it- the future. (With the help of Unhappy-Father-like-God,) and actually decided, “Dude- screw this- I’m out. I don’t want to clean up shattered pieces of emotion and discontentment, and stuff that should remain inside my body, so… peace out.” And it worked. And.. instead of feeling the usual, “Dammit- that would have been way more fun,” I feel like, “Christ- could you have imagined?” And a little like, “Maybe you have a 6th sense gift.. kinda,” and mostly like, “Let’s celebrate by posting it online for all to read.”
…So I did.
Bottom line is, even if you see them coming, you’re not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So, what are we, helpless? Puppets? Nah. The big moments are gonna come, you can’t help that. It’s what you do afterwards that count. That’s when you find out who you are. -Joss Whedon
