You know that feeling of forgetting what it’s like to feel anything, and almost being afraid as you convince yourself that you are debased because you cannot feel anything at the moment? No tears; just a never ending gulf of air in your lungs making breath torturous. That is, of course, until someone says something and like a sly needle to a “I’m in my happy place that deals with no emotion at the moment, please leave a message never after the beep” balloon, you pop. So here we are, at 1:57 am; Popped.