Like in the movies. Like on TV.

I feel like I want to be a magician.
You know?
That classic kind in all black and white.
Top hat too.

I want to pull everything I’ll ever need out of it.
I want a deed.
I want a fat check.
I want pictures of all the people I need to meet.
I want a detailed list of every action that would optimize my happiness.

Sometimes I don’t know why I say the things I say, but I say them anyway.
I want a mute button in there as well. One that knows how and when to turn itself on and off.

And.
I want the biggest sweatshirt ever.
I could stick my feet in, pull my arms in, and close the face door.
And I’d be safe and warm in my portable fuzzy cocoon.
If I’m going to shut the world out, I’m going to need it to be comfortable.

Oh, and when that pessimistic streak hits.
I want that stupid hand from the Adam’s Family to pop out and slap me.
And tell me to breathe easy.

Or. You know. Scratch the message into the floor for me.