There's something about lying on the floor staring at the ceiling that the comfort of no bed can provide

Maybe it's the way we feel grounded, how the small of our back and head lay against the rough old rug you've had for ages

Keeping you tied to the earth when you feel yourself drifting away

Or maybe It's just because I refuse to use the bed I've been provided and would rather mope on the hard floor

Either way, the best way to do an existential crisis is lying on the floor with purple LEDs and Ribs by Lorde playing in the background and you can't change my mind