Prose

The Butterfly Effect

What is chaos theory? A butterfly swinging its wings and making a sweep or does it just touches us in a series of chaos, people, sorted out like dominoes? Are we the dominoes that collide with each other? The effect of butterfly remains, that is, the same chaos theory, something we encounter every day, consciously or unconsciously. We make decisions that may be good for us, but fatal for others. Decisions stemming from the smallest little things. It just seems like it, don’t get it wrong. But without them, we couldn’t create something big, something we think is, and often turns out not to be. With just one swing, these magnificent wings can engage us in a tornado of unstoppable emotions and thoughts, twirling us into a circle, where we try to rewind a certain moment in a time machine when one small thing was just that, an unimportant little thing and then, we froze it. And they can cut us halfway, it’s enough once if we let them. We are part of the chaos inside and outside it, we are the foundation of this tornado. Without us, the storm wouldn’t catch the butterfly and change its direction. Without our choices, we wouldn’t be both initiators and brakes at the same time. We are connected with the essence and depth of our emotional chaos but cut off from the point where the sky and the earth are separated, where, at a fast-paced speed, flying turns into a fall. We are connected with the material world, and spiritual, attached to some people, even when we least want to be. But, between desire and need is a thin thread. Do you already found yourself? Good, that means you are aware of your decisions, at least a bit. How many times you did something and hurt other people? And how much more you are unconscious, and disappointment becomes a cheap label that everyone wears? They hurt you back, too, so vanity strikes, ego awakes, like a silent killer whispering on your ear to convince you that you want them to feel that pain, and in fact you are their pain, and vice versa. We give each other a stroke stronger than the butterfly’s swing. We fly amongst the lives of others, leaving behind the sound of the wrinkling of the wings, a trail of dust, and we don’t even consider that from a randomly unnoticeable demeanor or spoken word, can be an entire sequence of consequences. One domino above another, one mistake below a thousand more, we fall, over each other, heavier than an understanding. Below our feet is either the soil or the dominoes of blood and flesh. We are always one remorse from the life we ​​want to live and almost always one decision closer to what we are trying to avoid. How many of them do you want to get outside of you, but you just can’t? By letting them go, one part of you goes away with them. And that’s inevitable. That’s where chaos arises, the conspiracy theories are in us, actions and reactions begin. Delirium and agony. Flight and landing. Guilt and sweet taste of recklessness. So, one question. You’re still here, aren’t you? How is it when people depend on your choice? On your decisions, either to allow them to hide under your wings or to decide that your anguish is hurting them when you aren’t able to feel it while you fly unarticulated, without choosing caressing or stroke? You are the cause, but also the consequence of yourself. Don’t think you are not to others, too. It’s like swimming in the ocean of emotions, you’re dying, but your eyes are out of the water, and you don’t stop hitting the water with wings, but you’re not drowning alone, you’re pulling anyone who dives in to help you. And you always leave the same effect behind you, while in the outburst you break everything in front of you, at the same time caressing the world with the parts of the back of your wings. It’s soft there, it’s comfortable. But what happens when they are shut, and those who you tried to release remained captive? It’s not so pleasant anymore, is it? That’s what kills you, that’s your chaos. You’re burying your living emotions and wondering why you’re part of it all? It’s not your fault, but it might be. The number of those who destroyed you is unknown, and everything inside you that is unspoken, too. Not even the number of victims who are killed below the weight of your wings is known while waiting for you to come to your senses. Otherwise, why do you have wings if you don’t spread them? The mixed questions about your skeleton continue the same direction, only with other people, in other things, in different lives. This is a reflection of the theory of chaos, something that has no end. It’s a part of you, just like you’re part of it. You can try to stand firm, but if you are the first domino in a raw, one swing is enough to crush the rest of the others, just like one moment is enough to make a decision and even less than one for the consequences of it, to break you. And you know what? You go back to the beginning of the same ending again, and where you’ve ended, you haven’t started yet.

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