Before I moved to Austin I had this recurring image in my head.
I'm in a pitch black room, surrounded by the faint whiff of cigars and whiskey; I assume I'm in a private study. Directly in front of me stands a sharp-featured man in his mid 40s, with sparkling dark eyes that burn right through me, a devilish smirk on his face. He holds a single lit match to his face, the flame in his fingers casting a harsh glow on his features which seem to jump out at me from the dark. His penetrating gaze wordlessly says, "I know what you truly seek, and if you follow me into the dark, I'll illuminate everything."
I came to Austin to follow him (obviously he's a metaphor), and already there is light in places that I didn't even know were dark, that I didn't even know existed.
There's no way to say this without sounding cheesy, but I feel like I'm following the hand of fate. I know the purpose I seek, and I'm here to give it every ounce of me.
But to seek enlightenment like this is fucking hard, because to do it the old way is to go back to the world where everything was black and choices were a living sleep, and this new way is so insanely beautiful, and I'm so fucking lucky, but sometimes at night I'm gripped by this crushing terror and all I can do is sit with it, let it in, give it a cup of tea and wait for it to pass.
And when it does pass, the light grows brighter. My fate grows clearer. And the man's smirk widens.
PS- God this was so weird. Thanks for sticking with me.