Why don’t things just always fit how you want them to?
(I am foremostly referring to people and circumstances and those mystical stars that really are supposed to align for me, I just know it. But I broaden my scope to imagine the whole spectrum of matter and things that are and will be and have been. All of the different components to This that just don’t fucking snap into place, the place I ordain as proper and pleasing.)
((So, basically, I’m just whining about why I’m not getting my way. Feel free to proverbially smack me and/or give me the full eye roll and move along.))
Sure, the lofty and philosophical answer that came to my mind before I even finished typing the question in the first place is that we are temporally minded and fickle little things. What we want to fit is not always, in fact usually not, the right thing.
Really? How do you know? Maybe if things fit the way we wanted them to in the first place, we would just all be sitting around being completely contented and happy people. Maybe it’s the misalignment, the puzzle pieces that just won’t fucking go that screw us over from the start. The fact that fate or God or the universe or some impish dick in the space between places pulls our strings and the strings for all of the world’s moving pieces and doesn’t let them participate in the grand symphony of time and space and touching bubbles in the exact way we would like them to could very well be the lynchpin holding the whole world into this deformed orientation. Suck it, I don’t care if that’s fourteen run on sentences stuffed into one.
But I don’t want to think that. I want to think, and something pulling and expanding tightly in my chest tells me I know, that He is out there in the cosmos pulling for me. For me. For me. It is essential for this to be, or I will reduce to a flobbery, gelatinous puddleblob. Even more so, I mean.
Basically, fuck the pieces that won’t fit. And double fuck the Reason behind it.