Warning: naughty language ahead!
Traveling is the one thing we can buy that makes us richer.
Let’s wake at 4 a.m. just to fall back asleep on one of those nine euro budget flights—so we can wake up in a place that sets our soul on fire.
Let’s feel joy for the sake of feeling joy.
Let’s willingly let go of our pain,
Let’s call in more realness—more mess.
Let’s watch ourselves bloom while we jump on the back of motorbikes with bearded Italian strangers and go on an adventure in the countryside.
Let’s give ourselves two orgasms for breakfast, a whole pizza for lunch, and an Aperol spritz for dinner.
Let’s run through parks and lakes and cry for all we have been, and scream in happiness for all that we are.
We have one life, my loves.
Let’s make it fucking spectacular.
None of what I am experiencing right now is because of something outside of myself.
My happiness is a result of finally, after years of subconscious reprogramming, being at one with myself.
There is a sustainable internal reality that follows me wherever I go.
Buy flights. Get rich.
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