Six Perfect Ways to Keep Your Dream Life A Virgin

Or, how to keep your special flower forever (and never fail)

Image from Raw Pixel on Freepik

I’m a great writer. A genius, really.

I live wherever I want. I ponder on windswept beaches in the mornings, my mind wandering with the gulls, and punch out glorious stories on my typewriter in the afternoons.

My stories touch millions of hearts. I change people’s lives with my words.

And I’m minted, too. Rolling in money. Even though it’s not important to me, it just keeps coming.

I live in Paris, I mountain bike in Utah, I walk around Spain. I write non-fiction, fiction, articles, and Twitter threads. And it’s all good. Oh, it is all very, very good.

And I’m true to me, too. I mean, authentic, you know? And it’s all so easy, and natural.

I give interviews to newspapers and magazines and huge podcasts that say as much. I’m humbled by my success, I tell them, but I’m not surprised by it. Not really.

This is the perfect potential that exists in my mind. Sometimes it feels, despite zero evidence, like it might happen one day. But mostly it feels a million miles away. It really depends on my mood.