My Relentless Dance with Fate

Fate and I are not friends. We have been at war for as long as I can remember.

It started before I even knew what “fate” was, before I could name the heaviness in my chest or the storm in my mind. I fought battles that no one should have to fight, wrestled with demons that burrowed deep into my heart, and carried burdens that made my shoulders ache long before adulthood. Life has never been gentle with me.

I’ve seen more in my (almost) 30 years than some see in 70. Heartbreak. Death. Loss so sharp it steals my breath. Gloom lingers in my shadow, never more than a step behind. No matter how fast I run, how hard I fight, it always finds me.

I used to think I could outrun it, that if I worked hard enough, loved fiercely enough, held onto hope tightly enough, I could rewrite the story. But fate doesn’t bargain. It doesn’t negotiate. It weaves its thread through every inch of my life, no matter how desperately I try to unravel it.

But if fate and I are at war, then I am a warrior. And warriors don’t surrender.

Maybe I can’t escape the weight of my past or the pain life keeps throwing at me.

Fate may be relentless, but so am I.