"It's strange," said Carl, "to think of oneself as an assassin."
"Think of yourself as something else, then," Avner retorted.
It is now 1am, and I can't sleep. My mind wanders, and things are in my head right now.
So I'm online. I remember that right now, Arsenal and Manchester United do battle at Old Trafford, on the other side of the planet. So I turn on a live match tracker from Football365.com , and leave it on as I periodically flick between it and other windows. A pretty pathetic way to follow a football match, but it'll do for now.
I need to listen to something. Tired of Old Blue Eyes for once, I choose to turn on the trailers, and ran through my favourites: the X Men one, Spiderman 2 (always reminds me of why I want to be a filmmaker), until I get to Munich.
"We are supposed to be righteous," Robert pleaded to Avner, his eyes begging for understanding. "I lose that...that's my soul."
Nothing is bothering me in particular right now. Nothing is troubling my mind. I am comfortable, and healthy.
So why am I here right now?
I am here, I guess, because I choose to be. I choose to come here, to write, and to expose my thoughts on the white screen, hoping that somehow, a distance will add clarity. I hope that by writing, it gives me an avenue, a road, a path, a floating piece of silver lining glistening of the wetness of the road, that will lead me somewhere else. To another piece of silver lining.
Maybe even gold. The pot at the end of the rainbow.
For that is what life is about: choice. Choosing, and acting on that choice. Dealing with the consequences, which involves making another choice. And so the cycle continues.
The first bit is easy. A little tricky at times, but manageable. It's the second bit that's a little difficult at times.
And on nights like this, absolutely fucking difficult.
"You think you can outrun your fears? Your doubts?"
I realised, a few weeks ago, that nothing will be the same again. Amid the foolhardy wishes of those who refuses to say goodbye because it isn't goodbye (which means that I get nothing), and those who genuinely refuses that void in their life.
Things will be different. For better or for worse, but they will be different. The end of an era, in the words of the Hollywoodsmith, a new beginning.
Now I choose to get on. To move with things. To give the best I could, even when it seems to be nothing more than pouring hope down a black hole, hoping that in the end, when the chips have fallen where they may, I will be vindicated. To do what I feel is right, and to become a good brother, a worthy friend, a son to be proud of.
To be a better person.
Because it feels strange...to think of myself as something else.
*Inspired by an email written by yours truly in the early hours of April 10th.