Graceless Heart

I am a box filled with Lego pieces. Outside I keep it clean, but inside I’m a mess – a mumbo jumbo of colourful pieces waiting to find order. To try and understand me would be futile, as all there is inside me is chaos. I am filled with emotions old and new, and I know not what to make of it. Is this what it feels like to be alive? If so, then why do I feel so dead? Ah, questions. It always ends with questions.