Take out or dine in?

It is a very strange feeling that my life fits into neat little boxes that can be stacked three high in the back of a moving truck. They call be labeled by room and content and arranged nicely into groups of similar themes. Then picked up by myself and friends(?) and transported anywhere I want. Then reopened, unpacked, and reinstated into my life. Yet I don’t know what the fuck I am doing/have done with my life for 27 years. No boxes, no tags, no order, no service. Maybe I just need to change the iTunes playlist.

Popularity: unranked [?]