In addition to a lot of really cool ideas, I’ve become very real and really content. I’m so content that, in fact, I’m going to stay this cool forever and start to sing to myself. I’m going to lack any pretense in the face of adversity. I’m going to own my own university. I won’t stop until the kids think it’s cool. If you don’t make it band, maybe you just need to focus on school.

I’m not going to complain to no end, never – never again. Because that’s not how this works, I’m going to let myself grow some bad ass new wings. I’m going to learn to talk, read, and write as I think, but in Greek, and with some tacky new features. Further down the line, I’m going to enroll back into a college to systemically school every dumb teacher – that’s how content I am with myself and keeping it chill.

I be so cool that I’ll just whip it out – till the day I break new ground, I’m content enough to edit my sentences mid-sentence. It de facto feels fine living with the trivial things I desire; I feel a connectedness to more of the same deepdish party pizza. I’m interested in maybe some more Dr. Pepper, the Strawberry kind, but not diet.

This was a journal entry where I simply spent some time writing about how I’m content. I am right now and trying to be each day. I feel like I must become the same in contentment forever because it’s cool to be in this form of something I feel is a natural and normal rhythm.

I’m content in the way of disbelief, in the face of considerable flux throughout my psyche, in the name of each person who ignored me, I’m still content with the way I’m to exist. I’m content the way I have it now made and okay with the way it has to persist.

If I was even a bit any more content, I’d be deeply unsettled. If I didn’t say these words to you, then there’d be no riddle.