At this moment, not precisely, this period in time where your entire life falls into place and simultaneously breaking into ruins at the pace that it should; you’re neither happy nor sad, nor both, nor nothing at all; that feeling as though you are that repelling force between two similar-poled magnets, that infinite void; your head is a hoarder’s home – mess; yet also in complete sobriety you’re taking figurative steps into a whole new beginning every waking moment being utterly oblivious/conscious to the idea of flawed reality; you just don’t know if this is considered life, or lack thereof.