I think I found myself wandering the woods last night. I dunno, maybe it was just a dream. But the moon sat heavy in the sky. Shining beams of stupid white light down among the trees. The forest was illuminated in an ugly outline with gradient shades of grey. It’s boring. There was a little house in the middle of a circle of stumps and I think an old lady sitting at the window watching the lightbugs or whatever they’re called. Fireflies. That’s the word. Watching the fireflies buzzing around the porch light. I didn’t go in because I don’t know her, and I don’t care if I ever do. Just an old lady.
I could hear the stream trickling to my right. Flowing like water does, downhill. It just does that. I dunno. The coyotes howled or whatever that noise they make is called. Yelling at each other to mark their territory or ask each other how it’s going or whatever the hell it is coyotes talk about. Other than that it was quiet. I wish there was a point to this story, but there’s not much point to anything to be perfectly honest. I don’t really care. I just went for a walk or something. And that’s what I saw.
Sometimes we find ourselves in situations that we can’t escape from. Everything worked out in exactly the right way that we’re forced to act. And we have only one option. We have to do one particular thing, we don’t get to choose. That’s called a nexus point, I think.
Take us for example: you walked off the bus and into that store. I saw you buy that book. That book. Of all books I don’t know why it had to be that book. But that’s the one you chose. God and the Heavens or whatever personification of the universe that you prefer to believe in put you and that book there. Ganesh, I don’t know. Whoever you think controls the Universe. That’s who put that book in your hand and told me to follow you.
I had a choice, and I chose to listen to his call. I followed you. I chose to get into your house and when you picked up that knife, you chose to stab me. We don’t always get a say, chum. We may find ourselves at a nexus point here, my friend. I’m bleeding out on your floor. You’re not going to call the police because now you’ve killed someone. You have no choice but to dispose of the body. I have no choice but to let it all happen. Don’t worry though, if God forced us into this, surely in all his wisdom he won’t punish either of us. I mean, it was all part of his plan, right?
So please don’t be sloppy when you get rid of me. I don’t want you to lose control of the situation and have no say in what happens to you next.