You'll be uncomfortable 40 percent of the time

When you open the gates of adulthood

A fair warning, dare I question its accuracy?

But still, there was much I wasn't told

And much that wasn't explained

I decided to venture out seeking answers

I went to a professional

"Can you pinpoint the origin of my anxiety?"

The doctor pulled out a map

I studied it, and there I saw:

Envy, bitterness, love, nostalgia, confusion, guilt, and desire

All illuminated like neon on the perimeters of a bustling thoroughfare

Soliciting my neurons for their patronage

Buzzing and pregnant with emotional potential

Ships docking harbors like thoughts approaching the threshold of perception

Towns of rapid traffic synapse intersections

Forests of dense cranial arbors

I continued studying the map

"It's here"

The doctor pointed to an empty patch

There was one road leading out to an empty patch

It didn't dead end but just sort of disappeared in isolation

"Right here?"

I surveyed the space with my finger

The doctor nodded gravely

"I'll leave you with the map for a moment," he said

Then gathered his instruments and neatly exited the room

I traced the path of the disappearing road until it was no longer a road

Tapping with my finger on what I decided was the threshold of the road's existence

I stated, "It is here where I will retire"