I was twenty-ish once. Yes, it's true. I was. Self-entitled. I'd seen it all and done it all by that ripe old age of twenty-ish. I had lived the life of Riley. Nothing impressed me. Breathing was a bore. Anyone over the age of 30 was corrupt, clueless, fake, and filled with stupidity. Only I knew what was real, honest, and true. I thought I had figured out all of the answers to life’s riddles and that everyone else in the world was stupid. I was hip, wry, cynical, ironic . . . and a complete and very obnoxious bore. Over time, I became an age I had never ever intended to be. Invisible to the twenty-ish-ishies. I've seen it all, done it all, still living the life of Riley. Mornings inspire me. Breathing appertains to creativity. Not everyone over the age of 30 is corrupt, clueless, fake and filled with self-entitlement. I've learned the hard way the meanings of the words "Divisive" and "Duplicity." The only answer to the riddles of life is, "That's life." I'm still hip, wry, and cynical. Never the icon, always the iconoclast.