The reaver of my fate is me

Bittersweet sound emerged from plucked strings, music that expanded in the room around me and soon filled my whole world. Music that carried me away from the here and the now and provided me once again with the means to travel to places far far away, to the there and the then. Music that was instantly transformed to melancholy.

Pictures and smells and sounds of my forever past future overwhelmed me. My senses were being betrayed by my own mind. I was suffering fusillades of memories I could never have, being the memories of events that never happened. Memories of events that could never happen. And yet, I'd longed for those events so eagerly and for so many years, I'd conserved and refined every minute detail of my phantasies, I'd explored and indeed created every impossible manner by which those events would take place that I had, eventually, transmuted them into memories. And it was those paradoxical memories that dragged me forever downward, into a bottomless pit of nostalgia and despair. And as I was plunging, the blessed and cursed melodies - still escaping from the unseen stringed instrument with the violent joy of a maniac escaping from his prison cell - resonated through me a sense of profound loss. And it was then I realized that I was on collision course with my fate. I was on collision course with the one that reft me a bright and noble present. I was on collision course with myself.

But the truth was that my fate had already overtaken me, ages ago. And it was a horrible torture because I could never absolve or redeem myself. I could never fight my phantasy even within my phantasy. Because I never liked what lay ahead of me. Because all I ever liked was what I was forced to leave behind...