It occurred to me today that my life may not be where I wanted. Certainly, not where I wanted to be when I was 6 years old playing with my best friend in the middle of the street.
I took yet another stab at cooking tonight. And yet another stab that ended in a piecemeal meal and left more than just my stomach unsatisfied.
Let's take stock:
Can I cook? Well, it's determined that making a mean whiskey drink doesn't count, NO.
Am I married? No and I don't give a shit.
Do I have air conditioning? Sweating is good for the pores.
Do I have a dog? Am I responsible enough to have a dog?
Do I finally regret my first tattoo? Still hopeful I can mold that into something.
Do I iron my clothes? Still don't see the point.
Do I own a table? or a desk? I have an all-purpose bed
Do I own a ranch with at least 5 horses? I am breaking my child-self's heart
Well this is discouraging enough.
Are you beautiful and free-spirited and seeing the world? Are you happy with yourself? [i can make a strong argument that this is enough.]
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