As a child I always knew right from wrong. Light from darkness. Good from bad. I always knew the 'right' path, yet even as a child I remember looking over my shoulder, curious of the other path. The path that curved through the branches and brambles, the path that bent in the darkened woods. Not an evil path, but the other path. I always imagined traversing that road, of lighting a lone candle and tiptoeing through the moonlit branches. It is not frightening, it is eerily peaceful. Comforting.
Foolishly, as a young girl I imagined the ability to communicate not only with God, but his counterpart as well. My assumption was that I was special, that I existed on an alternate plane. These childhood ideals grew with me into adulthood. They manifest in various ways, in alternate expectations... Mina should be with Dracula, Christine should be with the Phantom, Angelina, not Jennifer, should be with Brad. Silly notions, but notions that comprise my reality. Jonathan Harker, Raoul the Vicomte de Chagny, and Jennifer Anniston are just too simple - too perfect.
I fight my alternate reality on a daily basis - it lurks in the background. Is this reality wrong? It does not follow the well-traveled path, but is it the wrong path? I view life with an 'alternate' vision, yet it is the vision of my birth. Are my faith and this vision mutually exclusive? How can they be if they have resided in my soul since before I can remember? This is my normal; this is my reality. This is how I was created.
The current's undertow strengthens.
Do I swim against the flow?
Do I relinquish control and be swept away?
