Listen, I admit- some days I’d rather not face the day. I’ll tell you a little secret though; I don’t really have to. An existential crisis is something you can sleep off, without the pressure of life weighing you down. So most days I wake up and shrug it off. I made it. Literally. This is my land now. On my terms. A new Eden, really. I planted this forest six thousand years ago, right here where men once made decisions that affected millions. It’s poetic, really. This stream runs right through the spot from which they called down their airstrikes, their assassins, their nukes- all in vain attempts to stop me. You’d never know they were here, looking at it now. It’s really quite satisfying what you can do when you have the time to really commit to a thing.