You know that part of the story where the protagonist's friend gets closer and closer to finding out some great truth about the protagonist (through some kind of built in character flaw, keeps getting himself in the same mess, each time greater in extremity, and can't seem to do the right thing)?... The moment he realizes that his indecisions have gotten so close to danger that with one last erroneous choice, the friend ultimately sends the protagonist's quest careening down some bloody hillside. Maybe not the most eloquent description, but I'm stuck on it... Yet he knew that shit was going to happen! I mean, sure, forshadowed a bit in the beginning, but somewhere in his gut, he felt the plight of an ultimate doom...could it have been prevented? I am stuck on believing we could change our hardwired systems... Yet our decisions tell us otherwise. I am stuck on believing in sheer will-power... Do we lack inspiration? Or is the whole point of life just creating enough probability for mutation. Maybe its time to believe that nature is not trying to leave things on a positive note just for our dirty human hands to foil. (tobecontinued). | 
