Shit happened.
Something interesting has also happened however internally. Thanks to life; that has pointed to me something that has been gathering in the cupboards quietly. So here I am looking at this dead pile of horrible waste of flesh and limbs and time that twenty years have come down to.
Twenty years of existence, it has been really, and I could not build a Self or grow roots. One of those feelings that knocks the air out of your lungs.

They call it light-heartedness. They call it funny, for wit is what I use to cover all that's private.

I feel rootless and poor today. I feel ugly when I am naked.