You oscillate too often for a linear line to form, setting your sights on everything a run-on sentence abstracted into a human. At 2am, you see only what you want to see, you are only what you really are, a mad scientist experimenting with a thing called life, seeking paradise in a crowd of atoms. There are no straight lines in nature, only illusions. Every day you are further from eureka and closer to a new question. Every five years you are getting somewhere. Every twenty five, you aren’t.