If I sit on my roof and block out the light from my house, I can forget that I exist. I can swim among the constellations and lose myself in the bittersweet triviality of our existence. I can break free from the intoxication of my life wasted on autopilot. I can pretend that I am merely thoughts, free of the weight of a life and of society and of reality. I can question things and depersonalize and forget this anchor of a body and all its bitter consequences. But, for now, all I can do is lay beneath the stars and forget.