There’s that moment. Some people don’t know what I’m talking about and some never will. Alone, whether it be in the woods, on the bus, or at a populate dinner party, clarity walks right through the door with her menacing smile and she begins to scrub away these notions you once held so true to heart. Morals that your world revolves around, tilting on its axis avoiding these things that clarity holds in a basket, that she urges you to try. I find immense horror in the underlying truth that populations of people settle with what they assume to be the best version of themselves. Arriving at a destination and deciding, “This will do.” How dare someone claim that their journey is over. What a way to live! Clarity cannot sleep at night, she is much too busy endeavoring to wake us all up. She thrives in open discussions and dances with the allusion of unbalanced thoughts. She rest her head on your pillow and collects memories to distort. She plants trees of cognition and reflects daily on your first loves and the day you learned to ride a bike. Clarity sips coffee from your collarbones as you write a story about the one who got away. Again. There’s that moment. Clarity stares you in the face like she planning where she will engrave your new wrinkles. She takes your hand in hers and places it on your chest. She says “As long as this is beating, you are not finished yet.” Out of fear and humility, you nod your head, intently listening to the drum beneath your palm. The moment is gone, but that doesn’t matter now. All that matters was that it was there. How dare someone claim that their journey is over, you think to yourself. What a way to live.