Fate was such a fickle, yet ridiculous concept. I feel like I've ruminated on the subject before, but it was always the circumstances that really made me try to push these thoughts out of my head. In a sense, was I fated to constantly talk about the concept of fate? Or was I merely projecting my views like a pretentious idiot again just to feel good about myself? Or was it the roundabout way that fate worked which facilitated such a roundabout way of thinking in the first place?
"We have a problem."
Either way, fate had a hand in everything, so I knew I should've expected this to happen sooner or later. My tendency to somehow be paranoid yet be utterly complacent in the simplest of things had once again reared its ugly head. Perhaps I should start learning to make the most of my insanity, but wasn't that what I was already doing?