Today is just another day in that insipid building in central Groningen, where I sit hours on end, drudging through stacks of paperwork. The never-ending income documents is much like a fractal, no matter what, mathematically endless and motivationally irrelevant. Often, I sit dreaming and visualizing what it must feel like to have a purpose in life other than living my humdrum, monotonous, and mundane life. Even when I sit wondering about the unknown joys of the universe, no one seems to care that I just sit there, staring endlessly at the infinite supply of paperwork. What is it like to be noticed? What is it like to feel real? The people in “my universe” care about what I achieve, listen to what I have to convey, and respect me as a co-worker. What is it like to have a friend? I once had a friend, the feeling of having one is long past, just a secluded memory, not a feeling. In my vivid dreams, sometimes I meet people that have similar interests and goals. I often think about what it would be like to long for things exciting and interesting. Yesterday, I found a puzzle in the back of my perfectly organized closet. I know every square inch of my apartment. Everything is placed in accordance to where I like it, and by chance if something does go amiss, it is both the most exciting and off-putting aspect of my perfectly routine day. “How would this puzzle mysteriously hobble its way into this closet?” I contemplated with deep consideration. My voice is my friend sometimes. Why didn't it chose the one of the other one hundred and forty three residents in this apartment complex I puzzled over. When Saturday came around the corner, I smoothly and gracefully walked across the parking lot, like a pendulum moving effortlessly in simple harmonic motion. The swift cold breeze hit me ever so gently against my emerging glowing skin. There is a compelling emotion of courage exploding out with every step closer to the football stadium, l