Consequences

I decided a while back that nothing was insignificant. Everything mattered and nothing really ever went unnoticed. It mattered if I missed the train, washed my hands with unfamiliar soap, wore odd socks or just let the phone keep ringing. If I forget to brush my teeth or the lights change to green; if it rains for three days in a row, if Photoshop decides to quit unexpectedly, whether I start a conversation with you or not.

Cause and effect. Over and over and over again.

Your life so far has meant that absolutely everything around you moved; dominoes with no end in sight. The numbered people you collide with, the experiences that alter the course of a life, the places where you spend your exhaustible time. I’m sure it would all happen anyway, but sometimes we like to pretend that we’re the reason why things are changing. Choices, side roads we walk down and the decisions we don’t reply to. We’re all just these strange amalgamations of biology and memories and words, holding onto existence with our opposable thumbs in any way we know how. And you have to keep holding on, you absolutely must. Because even if every direction you look in stares back with terrifying, incomprehensible possibilities and you’d rather just go and hibernate until life calms down, you must keep your eyes open. Are you actually looking? I’m telling you.

You could mean any number of magical things.

Do we create our own consequences? Personally, I have no idea and next to nothing figured out. But at the same time, I do know that there are detailed people and concrete places that I have written down in permanent marker. The buildings and humans and observations that I feel tie me to this Earth much more than gravity ever has. And they are my consequences; what happens before and after the dust.