Lately, I’ve been thinking about uncertainty. How I’ll feel unsure, maybe some kind of impenetrable regret, go stand in the shower. How sometimes everything feels complicated, maybe even strained. Like I can’t get the proper perspective. The idea that things seemed easier, more fluid. Now tangled, precarious, in whatever is this stochastic state. Maybe that’s just how memory works, turns past into better or worse. Experience only by chronological contrast.