a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in vivid sensory details-raindrops skittering down a window, tall trees leaning in the wind, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee-briefly soaking in the experience of being alive, an act that is done purely for its own sake. the awareness of the smallness of your perspective, by which you couldnРІР‚в„ўt possibly draw any meaningful conclusions at all, about the world or the past or the complexities of culture, because although your life is an epic and unrepeatable anecdote, it still only has a sample size of one, and may end up being the control for a much wilder experiment happening in the next room.

weariness with the same old issues that youРІР‚в„ўve always had-the same boring flaws and anxieties youРІР‚в„ўve been gnawing on for years, which leaves them soggy and tasteless and inert, with nothing interesting left to think about, nothing left to do but spit them out and wander off to the backyard, ready to dig up some fresher pain you might have buried long ago.

the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension you understand perfectly. finding a person so attractive it actually kinda pisses you off. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own-populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness-an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that youРІР‚в„ўll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk. a phenomenon in which you have an active social life but very few close friends-people who you can trust, who you can be yourself with, who can help flush out the weird psychological toxins that tend to accumulate over time-which is a form of acute social malnutrition in which even if you devour an entire buffet of chitchat, youРІР‚в„ўll still feel pangs of hunger. Imagine standing in front of the departures screen at an airport, flickering over with strange place names like other peopleРІР‚в„ўs passwords, each representing one more thing youРІР‚в„ўll never get to see before you die-and all because, as the arrow on the map helpfully points out, you are here. the awareness of how little of the world youРІР‚в„ўll experience.

Wow hits 2016 you