That moment when procrastination turns to inspiration. That time when the sun stops rising and hasn't started falling. The split-second it takes for the minute hand to tick to the next spot.

That place between crushed soda cans and leftover bags of chips. The crayon X marked on a notebook paper map. Those love notes scribbled on Post-it's and stuck on binders. The cozy spaces between the iambic pentameter of Shakespearean sonnets.

The sweetness of hot chocolate in the early morning and Red Bull in the middle of the night. The taste of half-formed wishes mingling with half-eaten lunches. The sharp tang of spices and speculations and everything in between.

The feel of down-pouring rain on blow-dried hair. The freezing fire of adrenaline lighting up tangled veins. The weightlessness of missing the last step of the staircase, of hanging in air on a playground swing, of diving headfirst into the pool of thoughts and ambitions.

The sounds of verbs, nouns, and adjectives mingling with syntax and grammar. The tinkling chimes of millions of languages blending into a heavenly melody. The steady rhythm of a pencil on paper, of keyboard keys clicking away.

This is my favorite time, my favorite place, my favorite song, my favorite world.

This is when I stop existing and start living.

This is life.