I need a favor from my generation, not in definition, by all who are Present. Those who abide and especially those who take the GoFundMe a little too far into the Land of Entitlement. Let each of us all step back, far back, and look at how small cars are when you see them from an airplane. None of us are entitled to anything, and yet many of us have a bounty. Maybe my recent fear of big cities has less to do with anxiety, a hatred toward the fast-paced, and much more to do with a masochistic love of surplus, and ourselves. Stick your mugshout on a stick, keep your higher wages, and give me but a field of daisies and dreams. I do not understand the love of wealth, especially that of believers in the illogic and love. I will wear sandals in dust storms, walk with strangers, sit with the condemned as I am too, and I will be mocked all in the white noise of the Earth. I hope, someday, there will be more humans here, and yet in the beginning there was only 2, then 12, and tomorrow is 7.

Published by celinamcmanus

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