Okay, devil’s advocate? Fine...I can do that. Say it’s true...all of it. If I stand on the opposite side of what I really believe to be happening, I have to admit that the things Locke says...maybe even some of the things that Eko said are true.

Fate’s at work here...Destiny, a higher power guiding us all to this spot, here and now. Everything happens for a reason, and it’s something totally out of my control. I was meant to be on this island. I was meant to be where I am, to feel how I feel...to act as I’ve acted.

Why?

Why are we here? What greater purpose could it possibly serve for our flight to go down? What destiny would require the loss of so many lives? What could possibly be so important that it would require this much suffering?

I can concede to the opposing viewpoint, but I can’t abandon reason for the sake of rationalizing the stance. If I agree that we have a destiny by being on this island, then there has to be a reason. I’m just saying present it...even a hint at it. Where’s the path? Where’s the sense? I’ll even concede that maybe God has a hand in all of this. Where’s his presence? Show me one sign of his grace, his benevolence...I’m not asking for a miracle. I’m not even asking for a divine presence. I’m just asking for some kind of order...some kind of logic.

If there’s a plan, there has to be a method to it all...and I know we survived the crash. Yes, that’s classifiable as miraculous, but why? Why save all our lives if we’re just meant to die off, one at a time in senseless acts of violence and brutality?

I know that a lot of this stuff takes faith...but even the faithful have a reason to believe.

And that’s all I want...a *reason.*

Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Words: 327

Coming home was like stepping into an alien world after Puqhet...climbing the stairs to his apartment and walking through his door was a dash of cold water against his fragile psyche.

He dropped his bags in the middle of his living room to simply stare for a long moment, taking in the room around him. It was a study in depression, in despair...once neat and tidy bookshelves were missing volumes, texts leaning and scattered about the room. There were glasses, wrappers, signs of a man that no longer cared enough to make an effort. Clothes were strewn around, papers a mess...short, desperate little notes were littered about, detailing Sarah’s movements, names of men that *might* have been Him...

It was the den of a man who was drowning in his own misery.

Reaching up, Jack touched his arm where the ink lay beneath a layer of light cotton. It still felt tender, that sting reminding him of the characters now branded into his skin.

He walks among us, but he is not one of us.

The tidy, perfect little home he’d left was the home of a successful doctor. This was the home of a shadow. Jack was neither anymore...he didn’t know what he was.

You are a leader, a great man. But this, this makes you lonely, and frightened, and angry.

He was alone because Sarah left him. He was angry because she’d left him for another man.

But he was still afraid...and he couldn’t blame that on her.

The rage bubbled over, the pain of solitude blended with that fear in a single instant that redefined his home. It was a small thing, a simple thing...but it put things into different perspective for Jack as he drove himself to the hospital, and later as he set about cleaning up with only one good hand.

He worked all night, and by the next morning the apartment was pristine. Every shelf in order, every paper gone...every note carefully gathered and stowed away in a drawer to be pored over with careful consideration.

And the hole in the cheap plaster of his living room wall marred the meticulous order with a deliberation that satisfied him. He was in the neat, orderly home of a successful doctor now...just as it should be.

And at the heart of it all, it was the home of a man who never asked to be chosen by Destiny.

Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Words: 412

"It is better to die on your feet than live on your knees." Emiliano Zapata

Live together, die alone. Granted, it’s a little corny, a lot trite, and about as cliche as you can get, but the fact is that it’s true. Painfully true.

I mean...look at us. We’re still here.

We’ve lost some of our number, but it’s part of life: people die and in situations as extreme as this one? People tend to die a lot sooner, and in greater numbers. What happened with the tail section survivors is proof of that. Us? We’re still alive and well, with precious few of us having succumbed to the hardships of the life we’re living. We’ve had enough to eat, and since we found the hatch, we’ve been very comfortable. Our sick and wounded, in varying degrees, have all survived their injuries...we even have a newborn baby healthy and thriving in our midst. I think that speaks volumes about where we’re at.

As individuals, we’d be subsisting. We wouldn’t be anywhere near the level of advancement, of safety and *comfort* that we have right now. The wealth we have can’t be bought our sold, it’s in who we are and what we can do for ourselves and each other. Our joys, our sorrows...they’re far more real and visceral than the experiences we ‘d ever have known in the real world.

Die on your feet, live on your knees...together or alone.

True, that monster in the jungle could easily crush us all under its heel if what we’ve seen...or haven’t seen, for that matter, is any indication. But picking us off one by one? That’s a far easier task...one that the Others have risen to on more than one occasion.

We all may go down one day, but apart, we’d be destroyed that much faster. So if we’re all going to die here? We’ll die together...at least that way, we’ll be that much harder to kill.

Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Words: 317

( Read more... )

Muse: Jack Shephard
Fandom: LOST
Words: 485