This is not a book of answers. It never tries to be. It’s a collection of everything that sits in between — between knowing and not knowing, between almost and maybe, between who you were and who you’re still becoming. These poems move through late-night drives with no destination, conversations that go deeper than expected, and the quiet kind of moments that don’t seem important until they are. They live in the space where you laugh too hard at something that makes no sense, where you overthink a single glance for hours, where you feel everything all at once and still can’t quite explain any of it. There are poems about connection — the kind that’s unclear, undefined, and impossible to label. The kind that makes you question what something is without ever fully asking. There are thoughts that spiral, soften, and settle. There are pieces that don’t resolve neatly, because most things don’t. Some of these pages are warm — filled with nostalgia, friendship, wrong turns that turned into memories, and the little things that quietly shape everything. Others are heavier — touching on the strange weight of existing, the feeling of being seen and unseen at the same time, and the moments where your own mind feels louder than the world around you. There’s humour here too. A bit of chaos. A refusal to always take things seriously. Because sometimes the most honest way to cope with everything you’re feeling… is to laugh at how absurd it all is. This book doesn’t follow a straight line. It wanders. It doubles back. It gets lost on purpose. And maybe that’s the point. Because life rarely happens in big, defining moments. It happens in the small things — the passing comments, the shared silence, the missed turns, the songs in the car, the thoughts you didn’t say out loud. The things you almost overlook. The things that stay with you anyway. This is a collection of those things.