I sold all my self help books

When I woke up this morning, I glanced at my bookshelf. Almost every book was a book about how to be happier, how to be healthier, how to love myself, how to love someone else, how to have sex, how to be more emotionally stable, how to be more productive, how to stop being depressed, how to get rich, how to stay rich, and how to find God.

But then I decided I'm happy enough. I'm healthy enough. I love myself plenty. I love my friends, family, and partner a ton. I'm decent in bed, I think. Sometimes I'm a bit of a handful, but I'd say I'm pretty darn emotionally aware. I'm definitely productive. Sometimes people get depressed, and I'm a person, so I'll probably get depressed again. I'm getting rich my own way, and it'll stay that way. Or it won't; I don't know. And God is the beauty in everything and everyone. I see it. Right. There.

Read on: Archival as art