You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everyone else, and we are all part of the same compost pile. It's only after you lose everything that you're free to do anything. No fear. No distractions. The ability to let that which does not matter truly slide. ...you're not who you tell yourself.... You're not your name.... You're not your problems.... You're not your age.... You are not your hopes. We're the middle children of history.... no purpose or place.