Substance

The cream filling. The meat. You know, none of that bullshit carb excess they give you before your meal to mask the reality that 7/8 of the sad excuse of a dinner they call an entree is just garnish and fancy drizzle. I never realized that the people I've just met this year and those I've known for years are actual substance. Real, grade A, handpicked, quality human beings. People who keep dreaming and chasing and falling and getting up and dreaming some more. Substance. I'm not suicidal, but boy how I wish I could OD on each and every one of you. Thanks for reminding me of the big picture.