Between all you know and everything else exists a single, mangled line. Like the horizon between a clear, purple sky and the earth's tormented curvature. It holds the promise of a forbidden wasteland. A siren, an ambassador of worlds never forgotten solely for lack description. An exhaustive representation of the dance between solicitation and assimilation, wherein one escape couples but one entrance. The act begins but once by the name of flirtation.
It is our humanity. Honestly, it is much less an act than it is honesty. It is our anatomy. "What ifs?" are social and semantic placeholders for "being human". As a collection of parts, our prerogatives comprise a sum of success, happiness, enlightenment, and general non-suck. Our very existences within a furious universal reality consist of fracturing it through daily performances of prismatic distortion in order to stomach down personalized, non-lethal doses. Or is it impossibly undeserved rations labeled antithetically as entitlement?
Either way, it is all we know. It's being human.