Let the girlies manifest on TikTok.
Let the hustle bros manifest passive income streams.
Let the spreadsheets manifest six-figure brands.

It feels like I called an Uber from Atlanta to LA, and it dumped me out in a cornfield in the middle of Oklahoma when the company shut down.

Life’s not hard.
It’s bloated.
It’s rigged.

The grim reaper has your address.
It’s punched into his GPS.

It’s all true.
It’s all ridiculous.
It’s all saving my life.

Shit was getting real.

It was a long week, but in the midst of it all, I found myself creatively restless