"How did it come to this?"
I have asked myself this question consistently persistently over the last year, where "it" is all of my hopes and dreams and "this" is everything I am today. Now then, how?
Naturally, to find the answer I begin by retracing the steps. I review my notes. Next, I wonder if any positive account of my actions that I've drawn up for myself is revisionist. Accordingly, I review my account, and "logically", I revise it. Logically...
It's hard to come to terms with the fact that the dream image of my future has somewhat deteriorated into the present - a not-so-displeasing present but it isn't quite the "present" that I had envisioned for myself at the dawn of my adulthood. I feel like the probability cloud collapsed and I determined conclusively that the cat was dead (or I was in the world with the dead cat)! Further, out of some humanly affection for the playful, curious, furry creatures, I experienced remorse in the discovery - a result that is reasonable but unforeseen given its irrelevance to the purpose of the experiment.
Alright, so probability clouds are collapsing every second and what had once been infinite trees of possibilities in my future have since turned into concrete stories in my past. I'm finding solace in the indeterminacy of what's left to come. There may yet be many branches to break off. However, with every move forward through time, I change. Things happened. Damage was done leaving scars even after healing, like time-stamps dating me back to the day I was born.
We can never go back.