It's staggering how people strive to get things perfectly into plan. Include me, mind you. How one struggles in his endeavour so that it all falls directly into place. Into its millimetres, accordingly. No disarrangement, no cutting ques, no disorientation. For even the most chaotic of disorientations has to be meticulously disorientated, simply to fit the plot. To have everything in order, and order in all its delineation. One will do everything within his willing and grasps to ensure that when the moment finally arrives, the hope and anticipation of the obsessive compulsive labour will unfold exactly akin to the precisions of his computations. Only for it to embrace the unthinkable, for it occurs almost inevitably. Very much against the plan. The plot. Even the improbable disorientation seem strangely tidy against the impetuous that has caused all to fall out of place.

But then we look back at the plan. From a diferent perspective. We look back, at the bigger picture. Is it really out of place? Or just dissimilar to the view before. For the silver linings is always there, only a matter to whether we're keen enough to notice its shimmer. And once we do, oh you pray n pray that you do, it exceeds your premeditated expectations. Screw falling into place, it escalates above and beyond the highest of places. Ever present, and ever giving, you begin to embrace and celebrate the fact that you are completely. powerless. to stop it.