To wake up to a light misty rain at 5:30 in the morning,

Sunny side-up eggs with Canadian bacon on the stove,

And an indescribable feeling of fatigue.

For the night prior, my ears were pummeled by Travis Scott,

Who convinced me to buy new Jordan 1 mid sneakers for Avery.

“They are swag,” he said to me,

“Red like the back of a ladybug” as he drank an Oreo shake from Applebees.

Yet this is not what I wanted.

I wanted something more nifty.

An astronaut in a snowy desert, like Antarctica,

On another planet equidistant as we are to the sun.

I would be as important as George Washington,

And feel as big as Cthulhu,

When I walk over a hill and find a vast water,

Like the Pacific Ocean just west of California.

“Urika!” I say,

As Canadian actor, Ryan Reynolds walks up to me,

And says “No sientas tristes.”