I tried to say something to her, but she was very reluctant to speak. I kept thinking what have I said to upset her or what’s wrong, if she would just tell me. But I remained silent running through everything I’ve ever done in the last two weeks. Nothing came to mind. But hell I have to try something, “So this weather feels really nice, eh?” no response. Damnit. Her gaze was fixated on the distance, looking at all the trees colors. “So, school’s been kicking my ass lately. How’s it for you?” She stopped and turn towards the creek. “let’s go over here” she said, “let’s sit for a bit.” She headed off towards the old stone bridge that crossed over a mossy creek, and I promptly followed. She sat down in the middle of the edge, and kicked her feet over the surface of the water. I just leaned on the pillar next to her looking down the creek. Watching the birds and squirrels go about their business. “Do you ever feel like our life is just a laid out story, meant to teach others a lesson that we can’t avoid?” She asked me. I looked at her breaking my gaze off the creek, her eyes were still focused on the wildlife. “I wouldn’t say it’s laid out, and I don’t think our life is just a simple story.” I responded to her. “Why? It makes so much since, that we are all just playing a role that was meant for us. I’m meant to go through all my trials and you are their to support me for as long as you’re written too. Even now, I may be trying to break the fourth wall and you’re here to prevent me too.” “Hahahaha” I found her logic ridiculous, “You’re so dumb sometimes.” “No I’m serious!” “Hold on a second I forgot my line, director what the hell do I tell her next?” I couldn’t help but poke fun at her. “You’re an ass.” “Sorry that’s who I’m written to be.” She went quiet for a while after that comment but I kept giggling to myself, “I’m sorry, I was being mean wasn’t I?” “Yes” She said with a pout. “I don’t think everything is predetermined. As far as your story goes.” “So are you saying there is no fate? No god, no puppet strings.” “I’m not saying that, but I do believe that fate has an influence that we can’t help. I couldn’t help being born, I couldn’t help having this body, I couldn’t help having my parents. Certain things you can’t change.” “So are you saying that fate is just the act of being born? Nothing else?” “Not exactly, I think being born is the ultimate strength of fate. But what you do with your fate is up to you.” “How so?” “Well, let’s say fate has determined we are meant to have this conversation. But I have the full capability and will to do this” I flicked her ear. “OUCH, ASSHOLE! WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU?” “Now whether fate decided that was to happen isn’t up to fate. I chose to do that. Fate has it’s limits and can’t control every single detail.” “You didn’t have to flick my ear though.” “And it’s with those limits that we impact our own fate. To mold and shape it into what we want it to be.” “But what if this is back to the universe trying to put me back into my place?” “Oh back to that fourth wall idea huh? Well I’m not sure about that. I can’t imagine how you see the world, I don’t have your memories or thoughts. I Have mine. This however goes both ways. You don’t have my memories or thoughts, so you can’t see the world exactly as I do. Therefore there is some wiggle room in your world that I could be an agent of the universe, meant to keep you in place. Or I’m just another story interacting with yours.” She turned and looked at me for the first time all day. Her gaze was filled with some much uncertainty that it actually hurt to look at her. “So, we are either all interacting stories, or slaves to a master universal force.” She said. “I’d prefer to go with the interacting stories, it sounds cooler.” I smiled at her, her eyes calmed a little. “So then If that’s true, who is the author of my story?” “Well it’s you dummy.” “I don’t think so.” “Well then who is it?” “I’m partial to believe that either god or my conscience.” after she said this I grew quiet thinking deeply about the matter. She must have understood that I was greatly debating this in my mind for she left me to be. Eventually I responded, “I don’t believe in either” she looked at me weirdly. “Neither?” “Yup.” I let it get awkward. “Well are you going to tell me?” “Nope.” awkwarder “Okay? Really?” “If I told you then I would be breaking my duty as agent for the universe.” “Whatever, seriously what do you think?” “Well let’s see here, everybody as two stories right? A biography, and an Autobiography. The difference being perspective. The way you remember an event will never be exactly the same as another persons. So there’s already two clear distinctions, your’s and mine.” “Okay, so are you saying everybody’s life is two faced?” That question derailed me for a second, “well yes and no. Generally the two sides of the story will align themselves and be very close together. Maybe even indistinguishable to the human mind. But there are those extreme cases, such as the holocaust. Generally the majority see the holocaust as a terrible terrible thing, while the people performing the holocaust thought they were doing it for the good of the world. It’s possible that they could’ve changed their thoughts on the holocaust before or after but for a moment, or maybe even to this day, they thought they were right.” “Okay but this still doesn’t answer my question, who is the author? God and you?” “Nope.” “Please stop doing that.” “You’re not going to like my answer.” “You can’t decide that mister.” “Good point, the author of your’s or my story would have to be my memories and everybodys memory.” “Memories?” She questioned “Yes” I replied “Your dumb” she insulted. “See I told you that you wouldnt like it.” I replied “Next time I’ll be quite sure remember that.” she said “but why memory?” “You know the phrase “History is written only by the victor,” right?” “How does that even apply?” “Think of it this way, have you ever found a twenty dollar bill on the ground?” “I think Ive found a ten before, but yeah I can relate.” “Now what did you tell people when you found it?” “I found a ten dollar bill on the ground.” “You see, if no one there to witness to you finding that bill, anything could have happened. You could lie, and say oh I was walking down the street and I saw a man drop some money, I grabbed the bill and ran to him and he gave me ten dollars for being courteous.” “But that never happened.” “Who’s going to tell you it didn’t? Or how’re are they going to prove it?” “Wait so are you saying lying or making things up makes it real?” “Nothing’s real, it’s how we remember it. You see?” “But what about evidence?” “So?” “If there’s evidence to support something that happened then it must have happened.” “If that’s how you care to remember it, sure?” “So how does that work?” “It depends on how you remember it.” “So in a sense does that make religion just a collective memory.” “Yes and different people will remember religion differently. Think about how many different varieties of Christianity there are. Everybody has a different interpretation on Christ, God, Allah, Muhammad, everything.” “So what about the bible?” “It’s a good book, just like any others.” “it’s really hard to believe that everything in history is just a memory.” “Well that’s just how you remember it, isnt it?”
Posted on: Sun, 24 Nov 2013 22:54:52 +0000
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