My horoscope says Iβm conflating optimism with enlightenment. Enlighten me while Iβm on my back, Iβll get it right. Itβs easy to be optimistic when youβre on top of me, underneath you Iβm steady and good.
A compulsion is not a choice, itβs a drive, a habit. An itch you scratch. But I choose this, my eyes are open, yours look right back at me, green and clear. This choice feels easy.