Destiny or Choice. Fuck It.

Destiny or Choice. Fuck It.

Much talk had been done about which is which. Destiny or Choice. I am no longer inclined to regurgitate the already expended thoughts of many dead intellectuals only to satisfy no one, even myself.  What I am more interested in is to make a way to arrest further commentaries about which of the two does really matter. Kicking the can down the road is no longer an option. If I would delay the matter, I am only engaging my valuable neural signals to already non-profitable, non-spiritually enriching nonsense of the mind. Yeah, I must accept that in order to do it, I am still using the mind yet paradoxically I am not.

So which is which? My answer is neither of the two. I have one word to describe the seemingly uncombinable thinly thick repulsive membranes of the two concepts. The two are like cousins allergic to each other but  I will smack them together tightly. I would turn those illusory rigid and discrete boundaries  of the two pesky concepts into a colloidal mixture until there is no more telling which one belong to either. As I said there is one word that can do that. When made to take side, I say fuck it. I simply call it STYLE.

Yeah life is not a matter of choice or destiny. Life is a matter of style. What else could it be? While others are busy with their heads which mindless doctrine they would follow, and switch at times they see fit, I am busy beating and bartering my STYLE with time.

I have to live not as a spell of destiny or as a dictate of choice. I have to live as matter of style. Giggle and wiggle, cry and laugh, to be in uptrend or downtrend, and for the most important thing, to spend energy not actively minding which responsibility to take or leave but to be the responsibility itself. Yeah to embrace both life and death. To be whole, to be neither the Yin or Yang, to be the unyielding, the uncharacterized, the untouched that was me prior to becoming “me”. That is what I call style. To BE.

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