Thoughts on choices

One thing I have always needed my witch for were choices.

I had always felt as if I was able to define myself through the choices I made and also had seen my witch as someone without this chance in life. I always thought that she was born into a world that determined it all. That totally determined her experience, her sense of things, and left no second to think which turn to take. And as a modern person, of course my choices determined me. What I ate, how I looked, who I had sex with.
All choices.
All big parts of me.
But tonight, I really wished I could have chosen not to be sad. I really wished I could have taken just one more deep breath and swallowed all of those feelings piling up in my chest, but I could not. Just as well as I sometimes cannot decide to fall asleep from one second to the other, although it‘s already 3 AM again as I‘m typing these words. When I was feeling a bit lonely the other day, a friend reminded me that it was never too late to make new friends, and after hearing those words, I found myself stranded in a flooded train station, surrounded by strangers but no one to talk to, and my favourite choice would have been to find someone with something written on their face that made it easier for me to say a word to them.
This makes me wonder if my witch truly never chose a path? Did she not climb the city wall one fateful night? Did she not choose cushions in the color of a heartfelt memory?

I know that she did. And while I am dreaming of choices I don‘t have this night, I remember hers and try to accept that it will always be the struggle of the complex tapestry of a mind trying to find a place in a weird version of this world.

… and I wonder if I really could have chosen not to eat a chocolate cupcake in the middle of this boring night.

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Published by Mistress Witch writes

About the historical horror of living. Drafting my witching novel. Chasing dark, forgotten and haunted tales.

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