The Accident

It all started with a big bang. But no one asks, who set it off? In my mind’s eye, I picture the big man set off a hand grenade and throw it into space and bang! galaxies! The milky way! Serious question marks over who named it milky way, there’s quite literally no milk. But that’s not the point, the question is, was it an accident?

Growing up, I used to be a bit of a hothead. There was this girl in my class known for running her mouth. She would run you down at the slightest provocation and it was gradually becoming a reputation of hers. On this particular day, she came for me, and my ears. Talking about “Why do Gottfried’s ears look like mug handles?” Now I wasn’t going to react, but another guy went, “yeah, I see it too” Now I was pissed

I tell her really calmly, “stop saying that, leave me alone”. But she wouldn’t listen and went ahead to say it one more time. This time the entire class hears and is thrown into fits of laughter. So I react sharply, you know, to shut her mouth. As my palm connects with her left cheek, I immediately realized why my dad warned me to never hit anyone. My excuse? It was an accident! Her cheek connected with my palm! Premeditated? maybe, but an accident regardless. Would I do it again? Absolutely!

Driving. Driving, in general, is an extreme sport. For some cities, you need to be on the edge or you won’t get anywhere. You also have to master the dark art of keeping your emotions in check. A fine gentleman learned the hard way as I watched him, in a hurry, park very carefully inside a gutter. You should see the look on his face as he crawled out of the passenger’s side. The look on my face? Delighted!

Unplanned kids. I wonder if twins realize that one of them was, in fact, an accident. Here’s a pro tip to know if you’re an accident. If your first birthday wasn’t hugely celebrated, I’ve got news for you. Also, if management was going through a financial crisis and you arrived to add to their troubles, you might wanna sit this one out.

Sometimes the root cause of your ‘accident’ isn’t even you. It could be any/or a combination of poor timing, sheer ill-luck, and good old foolishness. You almost have a sixth sense about what’s coming, but you ignore.

And when it does happen, when shit really hits the fan, the events of the day start replaying before you, this time, in slow-mo. You can almost taste the foolishness on your lips. If it could get worse, it definitely will!

Loving. Accidents ambush the unsuspecting, often violently, just like love. It’s usually the ones who swear that their heart is made out of reinforced concrete that falls helplessly in love. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving.

You see where I’m going with this? Yes? Therefore, to love is to suffer; not to love is to suffer; to suffer is to suffer. To be happy, then, is to suffer, but suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be happy one must love or love to suffer or suffer from too much happiness.

And so my dear friend, as you waltz through this divide of eternity called life, know this for certain. There is no such thing as an accident.

It is fate unnamed.