Ever wondered, why we make mistakes; the encounter with the hot pan resting on the flame, the ever revenge hungry needle when meddled, the axioms followed but yet not, words not to be told and yet spoken, actions unneccesary, expressions uncontrolled, mistakes all of them. We still make them knowing them to be mistakes, yet done, so in the future one can refer to them as mistakes and rue over the fact that you commited them. But why did we commit them, myopia?
Or plain dumbness(time is a teacher though). One decision, one word, one signature, one mistake is all it takes to take is in 'that one' direction(maybe a mistake).
A hopeless romantic is the closest i can get to describe the person who keeps making mistakes; mistakes commited, yet not...
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