Sometimes you live like a preposition.

No compulsion to generate meaning. A sort of hyphenated existence hanging between being and non-being. You are neither the subject, nor the object. There is no action expected or implied as of a verb. No quality assessment holds true as for an adjective. Just a preposition. A tiny preposition in the structured abstraction called life. Your need lies in serving grammatical requirements. The momentary gratification of codes, howsoever vague, within an overwhelming structure you have no business to understand. For, language can be reframed anytime. So can the vague statements of life.