There’s nothing that a good chocolate cake can’t cure
Same goes for the hot cup of cocoa or the cold sliver of dark chocolate…
This thing that we are feeling right now is just one of the many symptoms of growing pains. We will be turning 30 soon and it means a lot. It’s the day of reckoning:
1) have I accomplished what I have set to accomplish?
2) possessed what I am supposed to own?
3) have I perfected that vital skill?
4) polished that one asset?
And millions of other downright evil and not to mention self-debilitating thoughts and yardsticks we concocted to torment ourselves with. Right? Right.
It’s all in our head. Fuck the Capitalists, screw the Romanticists! I am but a frail human being, perfectly flawed and as important as the unfolding universe, as large as the tiniest star in the sky tonight.
Forget ‘grace of an adult,’ let’s get soaked under the rain, our tears mingling with mother earth’s own.
I am not on drugs. Come to my kitchen, I’ll feed you chocolate cake (homemade, moist, bad for your diet, good for your well-being) and we’ll swap stories. I’ll tell you about how I poured boiling water on my hand while preparing the batter and how ice water miraculously healed it. We will talk some more and sing some Barney songs and maybe it will stop that pinching in your rib cage.