So it's clear by now. I pick up the shards of my irrational whims and tie them up for a post that belonged to yesterday. The trouble with chocolate mousse is that you love it, and hate yourself for loving it. I mean that's the point about sin, isn't it...? Why do chocolates and sin have to be wonderfully irresistible...? I mean I almost see a divine design here . Which brings me to the point of will. What with my track record I shouldn't be fishing here but as they know, when have I stopped taking a risk?
Why do we have a will in the first place? What is the purpose behind it? If everything that we do is pre-determined then what's the point in writing this anyway? The bloody computer KNOWS what I am going to type. To think that I was going to write a soft-porn story and ended up writing an incoherent set of misleading words was, too, you guessed it... pre f-ing determined.
Trapped in a circle, I try to find a square peg. A Patiala peg, anyone...?
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