I am loved.

By so many people.

I have so many people thinking about me, in my corner. Wishing for my success.

I’m so goddamned lucky.

I can’t go wrong.

I can’t go wrong.

I’m exactly where I need to be, I’m exactly where I want to be, which is alive and in my skin, and I’m looking at beautiful art all around me, the art in the music video I’m looping in the other half of my computer monitor, the art in every face of every person close to me as I picture them in my thoughts one moment to the next, or the way I look out my window and I know there are people bustling in between the blinds of the apartment across from me. We’re all here, guys.

I take the steps myself, I walk toward each continued moment for the rest of my life, and I can be within them, within a bubble of accidental laughter and breaths that twitch my chest cavity whether I want it to or not.

I am very loved, and I could only ever hope for even one person and I have multitudes and multitudes.

And even if my home here is four white walls and those walls have no bends or curves or anything traditionally interesting, it’s so wild how I can feel things, I can’t get over it, I can’t get over how mundane my life looks and at the same time I can just choose to let every single tiny infinite aspect of sensation flow into me and wash away my self and make me FEEL in spite of so much objective nothingness in everything that’s within physical sight and reach.

It’s not a way to function.

It’s a treat.

It’s something that cannot be taken away, even if I end up under the Santa Monica Pier blowing criminals for an unpaid internship as a crack addict’s punching bag, they can punch me in the dick with their own dicks for the rest of my life in some sort of badass postmodern Dante wet dream. I’m the loved one who can love.

I’ve always got it. I’ve always got it. I’ll never stop having it. I’ve always got it.

Okay, time to pick up the phone and call in for this job interview.

Epilogue, written an hour later:
I wrote this in a notepad file in size 20 font to keep myself calm. I shared it for the sake of honesty. It was a successful interview. Nothing I wrote about changed since.

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