A way to break free.

I don't trust the media. To give me a true sense of reality. Over what's happening in this world. It's distorted. Biased. Incomplete. Meant to entertain more than inform. Leaves me confused. Maybe I'd be better off living as a recluse. In the middle of nowhere. In an isolated cocoon. With my Italian true love. To limit myself to a few friends and acquaintances. And to ignore reports of what's going on in the rest of the world. But still, I tend to be curious. I try to make sense of the world. Knowing that's impossible. So I begin to think that I'm a character in a living novel. In a scenario that keeps unfolding. Moment by moment. Page by page. Chapter by chapter. Thinking that I have some control over the storyline. On what comes next. When really, I don't. It's all fated. But that doesn't scare me. Because if I'm part of a living novel, there must be eternal recurrence. The novel can be read/lived over and over again. But maybe I have the freedom to interpret the significance of it all in different ways. Time after time. Maybe I'll see something I didn't see the first or second or third time around. Maybe I can find a way to break free. --Jim Broede