I'm such a damn hypocrite sometimes. Like when I claim to not believe in fate except regarding this one tiny thing, and regarding this one tiny thing I base years of my life on faith that it's meant to be.
Make up your damn mind, Dave.
So here's the deal. Maybe I've been wrong. Maybe I've been wrong about fate, and maybe I've been wrong about this one tiny thing. Maybe it's all been random, or existing only in my head, or maybe there is fate, and what's happened is exactly what fate had in store for me.
It's a tough pill to swallow, being wrong. Wrong about a life. Wrong about a love. Just flat-out wrong about the only thing that has ever mattered to me. The only thing that, I fear, will ever matter to me.
So, having accepted the possibility that I've been wrong, what am I supposed to do about it?
Nothing. Not a damn thing.
Wait to die, or maybe wait to live. Maybe I've been right, and I just need even more patience, and maybe I've been wrong, and patience is irrelevant. It doesn't matter. All that matters is that I do nothing, because that's what she wants from me right now.
And I hope that others will follow my example. There's been too much meddling and too much drama already.
It's time for peace to prevail.