I have this ridiculous sense of entitlement that stems out of a perverted kind of privilege. At some point during my childhood I decided that you, Universe, will one day pay me back. Because childhood was so.... less than ideal. And not honeyed. No rose coloured glasses or emerald coloured glasses could have made childhood sweet smelling or sweet looking. And traumatizing. So I think I've lived the rest of my life- my adult life- expecting you to make up for it. I refuse to give up this entitlement.
I guess this is called HOPE. Can we call it that? It sounds wrong and maybe that's not actually what HOPE is, but thanks, U, for inspiring some thing.
With respect,
Hopeful Nat
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