How erratic my mind is, thinking about all the lives I've lived, all the people I've been, and all the transitions between the now and the then that we tend to devote very little attention to. How is it that we become these different people, and we donβt even realize it has happened until we look back through time? How is it that we are so preconditioned to not notice ourselves that we donβt see how much we change over the days, the months, the years? Oh, just how odd it is to be so lost outwardly, that traveling inward proves to be a complete mystery; hidden in plain sight, right behind our very own eyelids.