The ability to pretend.

I don’t know what, if anything, makes a difference anymore. That’s how I’ve been feeling lately. That one’s life is fated. Predestined. Yes, I’ve mused about this before. My mood (opinion) flits back and forth. If predestination holds sway, it doesn’t matter what I do. The ultimate outcome will be the same. Might as well ride the current. The flow. Rather than fight it. That makes life pretty simple. I don’t have to make decisions. They are being made for me. By a supreme manipulator. Of course, I object. I want to make my own decisions.  Therefore, sooner or later, I’ll be back to pretending. That my fate is in my own hands. That’s my saving grace. The ability to pretend. That I am in control. --Jim Broede