The ability to see into the future is a curse I’ve fought against my entire life. It always felt like the paradoxical chicken and the egg. Was I really foretelling my future or were my prognostications just ideas planted in my mind that became self fulfilled prophecies? Which came first? I couldn’t figure it out and wasn’t sure it really mattered.

I yearned to live a normal life. When the natural occurrences of everyday experiences are an option that doesn’t exist, life becomes a meaningless journey. The joys that came from achievement and the heartbreak from failure were lost amidst a bevy of suggestive predictions. There had to be more.

A few of my friends thought my complaints were fabricated nonsense. A sign that my reality was convoluted in comparison to the rest of the world. The same way the rich and famous complained about being so recognizable that it precluded any personal space from the paparazzi or general public. Outsiders focused solely on the positive attributes without considering the byproduct of negative issues that also existed.

I began acting in opposition of the conjured images, if only to test the fates, but that didn’t help. It changed nothing. It was like ignoring a specified route identified on the GPS navigation in my truck. If the shortest route was sidestepped by traveling down a different path, my internal barometer automatically updated. The final destination remained the same, it just took longer to get there. It felt like I had little control over the direction of my life.

The frustration within continued to build until I lashed out in anger. I yelled at the wall, to myself, at others; the culmination of everything summarized in a few graphic words. The release felt wonderful. Feeling emotion to an extreme created a blindspot that had never before been experienced.

The longer I shouted, the cloudier the images in my head became. It was a resolution that provided an escape I never wanted to return from. I lost track of time, spending days shouting at everything in sight. When the inevitable happened and I lost my voice, the premonitions returned.

Panic stricken, a nervous jitteriness consumed my focus. My body ached for the sweet release of anger induced dopamine into my system. I had gotten used to the feeling of not knowing the future. It was something I was unwilling to go without.

The progression through maintaining an angry disposition moved quick. Punching holes into walls were replaced with pummeling a heavy bag at a boxing gym. Sparring with amateur pugilists followed but that wasn’t enough, even when our combined efforts resulted in bloodshed.

The line between acceptable and antisocial behavior became blurred. I found myself willing to do anything to satisfy the peaceful consciousness which had always been elusive. It didn’t matter that the feeling was fleeting. The few seconds of calm was the best part of the day.

Sustained anger was no longer a simple desire. It was a need. The enjoyable highs of altered reality became the only degree of normalcy that mattered.

The savior of my sanity later proved to be a slippery slope when walked upon. It caused my downfall, with many lives irreparably damaged in the process. None more than my own.