“It doesn’t matter if I get my memories back or not, I know you: You’ll come find me again, you’ll come rescue me no matter what happens. You’ll come for me, and I’ll discover you all over again. I love you. I love you without the memories. I love you right now.” - Cassandra Clare, Born To Endless Night
Maybe there isn’t such a thing as fate. Maybe it’s just the opportunities we’re given, and what we do with them. I’m beginning to think that maybe great, epic romances don’t just happen. We have to make them ourselves.
I am not here for you to embellish your dreams upon, I am not a flawless individual. I am not a pastoral figure within an Arcadian landscape, I am not here to inspire your inner voyeurism. I am here out of my own action, to be standing before you is a state of unrest for me. I am going against my faith and my historic depths to be here. Do not tell me that I am as helpless as you, or that I am here because I am free; that you are imprisoned. I struggle for my moments of freedom, I have to act as an individual to create them. You have your privilege, you have your wealth and honour, and the only thing to hold you back is a fragile relationship built on bureaucracy. The world will welcome you. Yet, you are stagnant in your misery. You are on the verge of escape, yet refuse to open the gate. Instead you project passive dreams upon me, you expect my kind words to fulfil your happiness. But you will never be happy, and those dreams will never be met. Not until you step out into the land you have inherited. I refuse to allow it. I refuse to focus on your life, knowing that my only role is to fuel intangible, romantic notions. You have to act. You need to act. You must act.