Everything has a place. Everybody has a place. Our lives are like a labyrinth of people and the experiences they bring along, all crisscrossing in a mindboggling fashion. Some tiny doorways lead to light so blinding you have to shield your eyes and others go and and on before you realise those flickers of light you kept moving towards were just fireflies doing what they do, completely oblivious of how much you're betting on them.
Each day you try to simplify. For such a complex species, we're very simple. It's what we like to do, simplify. Some days you draw a connection - 'Aha! So this is where that door was leading to!' - and you feel pleased - 'I've come close to solving the puzzle', you think - until this turns out to be yet another little passageway with a series of indistinguishable doors all lined up, waiting for you to see where they take you.
Behind one, there's sedate 2+2=4 happiness and people with smiles that are kind but dispassionate. Behind the other there's no floors, this place has no need for them, it's like a tornado and promises to be euphoric and exciting and very very lonely. And behind the third, time seems to slow, it's all like a big moving sepia toned picture. You've been here, you've done this, it's comfortable. Just cash in your chips and say I'm too weak to wander down all these little alleyways.
Or sometimes you can just squat in the hallway for a bit, light up a cigarette and examine the cracks in the wall. Let the fireflies do their thing.