I sadly don’t need much these days, comfortable tee shirt and fluffy shorts, soft sofa, mood lighting, 72 degrees, high as fuck, listening to musical showtune compilations with clear skin and a full refrigerator and a gigantic bed in the next room ready for a lay down at anytime, a cold bubbly clear liquid to drink, a pretty boy in your phone sending you text messages about shit in y’all imagination, photos around the room of you with celebrities of your time, books you wrote and published, jasmine incense in the air, and another more age-appropriate dude in your phone agreeing with you that humans are trash and we don’t deserve nice things look at how we treat one another knowing full well he definitely wanna fuck your brains out the next time he sees you but he won’t get to and then it dawned on me actually bitch that is a LOT. You are doing a WHOLE LOT. Too damn much as a matter of fact, calm down, clown. Just calm down. Go back to the original intention- to be grateful, for the little insignificant shit that you get to enjoy during your time in this universe in this form- you get to WRITE this and some other spirit in some other body, somewhere else in some other fucking time will get to READ it. Magnificence. Revel, you silly bitch.