Deciding Your Own Fate?

“It’s a rare thing to get one a ‘ese,” said a portly man on the tube, as he wedged himself rather artfully into one of the seats.

“I always have to stand, sometimes an hour,” he said to his mate while eating half a chocolate bar.

His face was a bit flushed and he had several gold rings on his stubby fingers. I secretly wondered if perhaps it was because he was unable to remove them.

Looking at him, I suddenly wondered, do we always get exactly what we expect? He seemed to me the kind of man who’d lived a challenging life, perhaps one of great physical toil. What struck me the most was the fact that, to him, getting a seat on the train seemed to be something of a big deal. Something he wasn’t used to. So, an easy life might not be something this guy was used to. Was it because he never had an easy life as a child? Or did he just decide one day that life was hard and therefore, it was? Sometimes I think about self-fulfilling prophecies and have to wonder if they’re real. For years before I came to London, I told myself I was coming to London. I believed it. I told strangers about it. I told my family about it. I spoke as if it were already a reality, long before it was. I’ve also noticed that when I’m sad or feel any kind of doubt, it’s a feeling that can linger as long as I want it to. And it usually does. Sadness is something that can grab hold of you, strangle you, even, but what we don’t often realize is that we’re the ones with our own hands around our necks. We think it’s an outside force causing our misery, but really, it’s us. We decide that we’re going to be unhappy. Same goes for happiness, luck, good fortune, sitting down on the tube. Whatever you want is usually yours. At least, that’s what I tend to think. Am I wrong? I could be, but only if I think so…