Autonomy

The thought came of its own accord, manifested without me knowing. Out of nowhere, from the wide and open blue, an asteroid hurtling toward its final destination.

I'll go with it, I guess.

I suppose autonomy is overrated; I'll let my thoughts speak for themselves, however broken and fragmented they'll become. I can never say what I really mean, not when the times truly matter.

What a thing to have controlling you--an imbecilic thinker.

But in the end the thoughts are mine; the actions mine; the outcome mine. It all belongs to me, I own it all, wanted or not.

And when it is all done and said, spat out with order thrown to the wind, I suppose I'm happy.

Handing the reigns to that voice in your head can get results the logical side of you never would have attempted to obtain.

And I'm all right with that.