In the last month, she had become something abstract to him, like a character in a play. Their connection had frayed. The unexpected intimacy he had stumbled upon in that place, so urgent and so acute. had eroded into something dull. The experience had lost its power. He recognized the fierce determination that had seized him for what it really was, an illusion, a mirage. He had fallen under the influence of something like a drug. The distance between him and her felt vast now. It felt infinite, insurmountable, and his promise, misguided, a reckless mistake, a terrible misreading of the measures of his own powers and will and character. Something best forgotten. He isn’t capable of it.
This is an excerpt from Khaled Hosseini’s ‘And the mountains echoed’. This paragraph brought me to realize that we go through things similar to this with so many things. I can think of careers, relationships and various other choices that we make impulsively and don’t/can’t stick by because that was never supposed to be a part of us but at the same time it is more that difficult to let go.
We are surrounded by people; people who are different and people who are similar. I come across new people every week and I can’t help but think about what they chose so that they are what they are today. Confusing? It’s simple. We choose things that we like based on impulse or reason and in the same way we choose our friends and people who we keep close. We choose, hence we are what we are. I have recorded a few of the choices made by people just to capture what they became after choosing.
The girl: She chose love over hate, calm over chaos. She chose color and warmth. She chose to live how she wanted. She chose lust blended with love. She chose him. She chose the date, time and place. She chose commitment. She chose life.
The girl’s friend: He chose the life of a nomad. He chose colors of a different hue. He chose life as it was supposed to be. He chose not to choose. He chose white. He chose black. He chose the date, time and place. He chose the end.
The stranger: She chose lust. She chose plunging necklines and skirts riding high. She chose neon and chose to be happy. She chose men. She chose to join the dots. She chose no excuses. She chose to ask first. She chose the physical.
The boy on the bus: He chose substances. He chose dark alleys. He chose powder, acid and syringes. He chose the psychedelic side. He chose to be far. He chose to be alone. He chose selfishness. He chose to steal. He chose death.
“They chose. So did I”, she said. “I chose the wind. I chose to accept; to be rational and whimsical. I chose chaos. I chose love. I chose hate. I chose life. I chose songs. I chose to change. To run wild. To run free. To be what I have to be.”
Choices. They made her who she is. They made them who they are. “She chose life. He chose the end. She chose the physical. He chose death. I chose to be.”