I stood at the junction, trying to decide which way to go. Normally, it wouldn’t have taken more than a second for me to make that decision but that day was different.
I had just witnessed three senior students having an argument about the existence of ‘destiny.’ I wasn’t supposed to be listening, and such philosophical topics usually wouldn’t interest me, but for some reason it got me thinking.
What was the meaning of my existence?
Was every action I’d ever made or were the ones I was going to make in future predetermined?
If everything in my life was already mapped out, then did that mean every choice I’d ever made was part of my script? Was I… in some sort of play?
I think that was when I began to question deeply the existence of many things — God, the Devil, ‘chance’ and many other subjects, some more esoteric, others less.
What is destiny?
I’m still not sure today, and I no longer believe in the classic definition of destiny. About 90% of me has come to believe that that which we call destiny is created with our hands. The other 10% holds on to the more fatalistic view of predetermination.
There’s nothing to do, except hope that if the latter is correct, Whoever-it-was gave me a good role in the script.