It is not that I want no responsibility for my actions, but yet, I do not believe I have free will.

Yesterday, in the college, there was a candle procession for a student who recently died. I never knew her, she wasn't in my department, but as the group of about 50 students sang in a solemnity that matched their black attires, I felt their sadness in me. I wished that that girl I never knew didn't die. I wished she won the fight against aplastic anemia. And if I wasn't sure if I was truly sad about the death of a stranger, then the tears that welled up in my eyes would have been enough proof. That was me, my metaphorical heart and the emotions it so easily generate.

But there was my brain, my rational mind. As I fought back my tears of sadness at the demise of a young soul seemingly loved by many, my thoughts were also racing, and in the opposite direction.

Why are they doing this? She can't see them, she can't hear them, she would never know of this, so why? It seems more of an activity they do for themselves. Why do I want to cry? Why this sadness? I never even knew her, never spoke with her, and only first heard of her when she solicited for funds for a potential lifesaving surgery. So why was I sad? For what purpose? It wouldn't bring her back to life, and I didn't even want to be sad for her (I don't want to ever be sad for anyone), yet, here I was battling a sadness that had suddenly crept up on me as I witnessed the black rite that was the beginning of the ceasing of her name from the mouth of men who still breathe.

I do not have free will. I cannot chose my thoughts even though many times it may seem like I have the choice. It is undisputed that that our emotions influence our thoughts and actions overtly and covertly - one man would kill his beloved son in a blazing fit of rage only to regret it once calmness takes him again; one horny man would rape a girl and regret it once the hormones recede; one woman taken by the air of worship would make promises that her sane mind would never make, and it would become an addition to the myriad problems she faces already. So if I can feel emotions spontaneously, even against my will and rational mind, then I cannot possess free will.

Free will or not, this is my attempt to bless the soul of the girl who left too early, to cement her name and give it a chance once more to struggle with the endless data being made; for to live is to struggle. This is her name:

Nwatu Ozioma Loveth.