the calling

I pronounced myself dead when I started to lose sight of faith. It was a struggle, like all transitions. It was tough coming terms to the fact that I will be relinquishing a life of faith, for at least the next decade... resembling a lone boat without its oars, flowing along to wherever the current takes it. I would think of it as a death in itself.

The dying days were spent in sudden onset of tears and swollen eyes. In sudden grief. A sense of loss. Mourning.

My own responsibility, my own decision. A decision but not a choice. A friend akin to my philosophy partner reminded me of it - that I am solely in charge for everything that is happening or will be happening to me. That sounds like the me who would stand firmly to my beliefs. Yet when I thought of the impending days, I was listless. I wasn't even sure if I can revert to my original self, one with willpower and resolution. Like all changes, forced or not, time fades away pain or perhaps we are just hiding from it. It is always there, like a scar - only concealed on the surface. We all learn to accept too easily, that is how school taught us and how life has shaped us. I dislike the part of me allowing myself to be consumed by the demands of reality.

Then... comes a sense of peace and norm. Like none of these has happened. Indifferent. Dead silence.

For a series of days, life was dreadful; things just went haywire. At times, that little part of me emerge... making me wonder if I was wrong. Humans being humans are apt to accept things. I started to think I should take this change or what has been decided seriously, yes, THINK, mind over heart. As I got closer to it, issues stuck out like needles on a melon. I began to lose faith in all the positive what-ifs. I started to think all things will mess up anyway. I started to hate. I started to get angry and frustrated. "Screw it up, so be it."

Just as things are going the wrong way, somehow each would find its own place, or it seems to be. I began to make myself settle and see within the what-ought-to-be. Maybe it is working. Maybe.

It was short-lived.

Till I found out that glimmer of hope still shines, that golden opportunity reappears for me to take the chance to get out of this dilemma. A dream come true... a life I desire and have always believed in. It almost sounds like the perfect way out like fairy god-mother to Cinderella. Unlike Cinderella, my fairy came too late... at a time that is hard for me to turn back. Or perhaps I wasn't as courageous as Cinderella to take chances at the very last-minute.

Am I too late to change my destiny?

I believe it's not too late, I still have the me-philosophy. It takes one to change everything. It's me.

Should I revive the dead?

Or should I allow myself to be reborn, life after this death; start life anew as a new person with new perspectives?