I Swear I Don't Wanna Be A Billionaire I Just Want Unlimited Arizona Green Teas
A "quasi" manifestation ramble worthy of a notes app designation.
You know? Like . . .
I just want to be comfortable. This late-stage (doom stage?) capitalistic battlefield is squeezing every possible ounce of will to live out of so many of us, leaving nothing but the damp, wrung out, slightly sticky residue of “survival”. Which fucking sucks.
Because I don’t even want a lot, you know? I don’t want gold or diamonds or whatever. I don’t need yachts or fleets of cars, no private jets or exotic pets.
I don’t want to be a billionaire I just . . . want a mini fridge full of Arizona Green Tea and those cute plastic clear milk cartons full of water with little fruit slices or mint leaves at the bottom. So I can lean over from my bed or desk and grab it, drink it while I work on something personal and a little inane.
I want a freezer with ten different ice molds, one of them will be a skull mold for all year round. I can sip a delicious spritzer or a glass of green tea with some funky ice and feel a complete wave of contentment wash over me because I finally feel like I'm living how I was meant to.
I want Edy’s rocky road and cookie dough ice cream in my freezer. I want cotton candy grapes in individual ziploc bags so I can eat them easier, and not let any go to waste. And, like, if you know how expensive candy grapes are then you'd know this is some real quiet luxury shit. Or maybe this would be a little victory after finally having crafted a better world where buying groceries aren't akin to an investment.
I want cupboards so big all my HHN blinkie cups can be lined up side by side. Solid wood, no modern brutality greyscale bullshit. We're going full 70s kitchen heat tones baby!
I want to do yoga in my living room, watch the scuffs made by my heels on the wall and not wipe them off just yet because it’s my wall. Like, actually my wall in a home that's actually mine! And, and I want a bookshelf full of nothing but candles! Treefort candles, Yankee candles, park scents and novelty candles galore!
I don’t want to be a billionaire I just . . . want to have a home and know I’ll never lose it.
I want a life where my purpose isn’t to make until the weekend, but to live in anticipation of each and every day’s new adventure.
I want to focus more on building LEGO sets, not on worrying about how many applications I have to put in per day.
I don’t want to be a billionaire, I just want to . . . go to a water park and drink a rum runner and it’s not, like, a miracle I could get the time off or the energy to spare or the money to do so. You know what I don't even need the water park, I'll just take the rum runner. You think I could sneak a rum runner into a botanical garden?
I want to visit every national park in a year. I want to make donations to every park, every botanical garden, every animal sanctuary, all of them. At LEAST $100 each. Like, all this money being thrown around and all these billionaires wanting to be MMA fighters and a real life Tony Stark and whatever other stupid display fantasy. . . But NOBODY wants to be the Lorax???
I don’t want to be a billionaire I just want to be a good daughter and take care of my parents as they age, never let them have to work again if they don’t want to. Let them finally know what peace can look like.
I just never want to deal with HOAs ever in my fucking life.
Like I don’t wanna be an asshole, I just wanna live, damn.