REPAIR ..::The Fate::..

What sees she there ?

There she sees a damsel bright,
Dressed in a silken robe of white,
That shadowy in the moonlight shone :
The neck that made that white robe wan,
Her stately neck, and arms were bare ;
Her blue-veined feet unsandal'd were ;
And wildly glittered here and there
The gems entangled in her hair.
I guess, 'twas frightful there to see
A lady so richly clad as she--
Beautiful exceedingly !

S. T. Coleridge, Christabel

It was just some months ago that one of my closest mates and I concluded, in the last days of our beloved school, who was not the prettiest girl in the group, not the most intelligent one, but both of them. We, in our still young minds, figured out who of that bunch of girls would be our archetype of perfection. Since those days, she had had the same boyfriend and my friend and I were sometimes pissed on the situation. The sublime form, as you can infer, I separately figured her as the Christabel frome Coleridge after reading it in my English class.

Last night, after being shocked in the head playing some football (as you know sometimes I am goalkeeper so the hits are there always) I attended to a party with some guys from the old places and some people from the new, so with a not that nice mixture as anyone would think, I didn't have a nice time and sincerely I was not in the mood for drinking because of my head and I just stood sat (and sad anyway) with one of my football team mates.

In the parties you usually skip from one conversation to another, and there was I, chatting about the game when I saw her dressed in robe of white and heard her, saying somehow the Destiny, the Fate, would someday join us, because we were most of the times sober at the parties so we talked a lot, about how the gang always used to meet with all the couples and the two of us, and even how we were bored sometimes by the same people. Yes, I heard those things.

I like to think last nite I heard that because the Destiny has it's bloody plan, that the plan has been a pain in the arse last years, specifically in love affairs, that the plan has been written with the same typewriter that Coleridge wrote his poem.

And in the end. . .

Fate
Up against your will
Through the thick and thin
He will wait until
You give yourself to him.
(via EarFarm)