The king is dead, long live the king

'God plays his jokes on us. Coincidence and luck were little more than an afterthought.'

It seems as if opportunities are only given to those who find little use for them. 'There was so much potential', we'll say. We'll whisper wistfully to ourselves, finding comfort in analysing each fault, every hairline crack that opened up, swallowing us as the weight of our own wants becomes too heavy to hold up. 'If only we did this instead'. If. The problem with potential is that it sways us with promises of achievement and fulfillment. We can want. We'll always want. 

What I want is an opportunity to impact my surroundings. That single, random chance, so desired by so many. I'll probably waste it like all opportunities are, but it isn't about that. It's settling the score with my mind. Finding the answer to the question that never ceases to torture; what if? And while there may not even be an answer to one's own subconscious, it's the emotion that wins, a tide of relief and regret rolled into one. Am I asking for a chance to fail? Maybe I am. But it's a failure I can't pass up.

It's funny, that. How something so abstract could be so wanted. 

'I'm only as bright as you wanted me to be.'
-William Beckett


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