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| DESTINY |
| In short this is a seven paragraph "poem" that speaks of my fears. |
| "I don't want this. I want to be like everyone else," I say. My mistress laughs in my face. "It's too late for that now! God has chosen you. And He doesn't make mistakes. So place your feet under you, and get up and follow me." |
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| "Why do you fight?" my friends ask. Why? Because if you knew the power that I know, you'd be terrified of what you could do. Of what you could be. Why? Because I would have to sacrifice who I am for a maybe. |
| I'm told that I'm not supposed to be good. What entitles me to this perfect destiny set before me? People are naturally bad. Or so I'm told. And if that's true I could be the worst of them all... |
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| Maybe I'll be great. Maybe I'll stand tall. Maybe I'll fall. Maybe I won't succeed at all. Or maybe, I will... and be something I never wanted to be at all. |
| "You will succeed" I am told. Destiny pulls me, my friends push me. Still, I fight like a mustang, clinging to the last breath of freedom. My body trembles, my mind strains, all the while my heart is torn in two. "Why do you insist on struggling? This is your destiny." |
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| The pressure of destiny weighs upon my mind and body. Fate is often a demanding mistress. It often feels that I am her slave. Nothing more than a puppet on her string. I am drug throughout my life by a tight collar and a short leash. The more I fight, the less I win. |
| "Stand up," she says. "Stand up and take charge." Beaten and bruised, I refuse. "No," I say. "I won't be abused." My pride won't let me look up into those eyes, although my heart knows I must. |