And we, here, barter in the currency of luxuries, joys, playfulness. So.

Sit still. Breathe deep. What kind of magic did you once believe in?

You were made for more than resentment and exhaustion.
So much more.

What if the parts you’ve discarded—the ones you’ve called extra, childish, frivolous—are the parts we’re all aching for?
What if your love of drawing, or dancing, or poetry, or baking, or baseball, or magic—is not silly, but sacred?