Over the line, can't define what I'm after.

I sit here, pining, wasting away, staring out my window like some forlorn Hellsangel from Miniscus waiting for a hundred more souls. My feet, when they walk, have a mind of their own - they carry me not toward my destination but onward, forward, searching for something adventurous, looking for the exit. Exit here, I say. But I just keep on going.

All my life I've been driven by the fact that everything happens for a reason. There are no accidents; their are only explanations. But through these past few months, I've discovered that there isn't always a cause for everything. You know?

Why did Mom meet Jeremy? At a bar, talking about some logic problem. Now look at them.

Why did Aidan abandon us? I don't know, but it caused me serious heartbreak for almost a year. Now he's my editor, and we're almost friends.

Why did I dye my hair blue? Impulse. A need for something different.

Why did Johnathan ask me out? He thought I was hot. Big deal. Never would have guessed his life would end up revolving around me.

What about Miniscus? A dream, that's all. I've always been a writer. Suddenly the mountains were so beautiful that I needed to be an artist too.

There wasn't a reason for any of it to happen. But it did, and it changed our lives. All of us. Sure, there's the cause-and-effect philosophy, but that still doesn't explain WHY. Fate? Doubtful. God? Nonexistent. Random choice of occurrences that happened to react and create something huge.

Battle of Hastings changed the fate of the world, you know? The comet that wiped out prehistoric life forms. Thanks, comet. Else we wouldn't be here. Or let's go back to the Big Bang. How the hell'd we pull that one out our asses?

There aren't reasons. Just explanations. No fate, no destiny, none of that shit. We don't write it ourselves, either.

Sometimes you can't pinpoint it all down. Sorry.