Break The Mould.

And when the sky falls on my head I will simply ask why I was not there to greet it sooner, as all the world is predescribed, predestined. And I have no choice in the matter, regardless of how I squirm and scream and try change the rules, break the way in which history is written. How can you change what has already been done? How can you start a new book with nothing to write on, nothing to write with. You are nothing but a character in the story, a brick of a house. Sure without you life may be lacking, but the story will continue, the house will still stand. Life will go on.