It has been a common knowledge that Conflict comes in various types. If I am not mistaken, I guess there are four: Man versus Himself, Man versus Man, Man versus Society and Man versus Nature.
Conflict occurs when two opposing sides collide; it happens when two contrasting parties clash. Not so much of a lovely idea, yes; but such grueling condition takes place often.
Among the four kinds, I can matter-of-factly claim that the fourth type of conflict (Man versus Nature), is the most difficult and the most complicated of all. Although each of the type has its own degrees of difficulty and measures of complication, I still see man’s struggles against nature a downright futility.
Man can always scold himself if he makes a faulty decision. Man can always recompense over a certain loss or injury brought about by his action; yes, he can move on, get over his blues and hang-ups and eventually live in peace for the rest of his life. On the other hand, man, on the context of his shadowy character, can also provide a twisted response to this. He can easily put up a cold, vile front and go for the retaliation---- vengeance! This situation encompasses all of the conflicts mentioned except the fourth one--- man’s hapless grapple against fate.
A literal analogy between You and a wall might further explain the said issue. Say, you happened to bump against a wall and hurt yourself. A few bruises and a scraped skin appeared shortly after that. This pissed you off and made you decide to hit the wall back. Thump! Cracks… Whacked little knuckles… Dripping blood… Oh, poor little knuckles. Perhaps, the impact of that blow was enough to make you yell out a curse and a sharp cry. However, what made you more upset was the fact that you failed to make that hard, lifeless wall pay back.
The said situation can also be likened to a simple argument between a child and a grown-up man, or a fight between a full-grown man and a mentally-distraught person. Who do you think wins? No, make that: Who do you think always wins? And who always loses?
My point is: there are things in this world that are beyond our control--- things that we cannot do anything about no matter how we try—no matter how long we try. These things always trick us, or pull nasty pranks on us. We get upset, and maybe we try avenging ourselves in any possible means or at any possible cost; but, guess who often ends up cursing the stars? Could it be the weatherman? The milkman, perhaps.
You see, accepting our futility against the invincible Fate is exhausting, exhilarating and absurd. To some of us, including me (especially me!) the thought of going down the drains unjustified is more spiteful than anything. So hateful, that if Fate were a man, I would (with all my might) rip him open, pluck his heart out, gouge his eyes, sever his head and wear his skin. Then I would gloat over that fallen Fate--- my toppled Nemesis, my conquered Enemy---- at last, at long last. Oh! How sweet revenge could be!
Quite a scene, that is. But it is not that--- because it cannot be like that. We can neither will it nor plead for it to happen so we could finally claim our fair share. Man is futile despite his intellect, might and initiative. Man is pathetic despite his courage, beauty and pride. He is only a pitiful heap of pretenses and lies. He is only a funny little dummy in fancy shoes and gaudy clothes, after all---- a laughingstock over Fate. I cannot contain it. Nosebleed.
