Are you like this? I like to think I'm complex.
Spirit. Soul. Miles and miles of intricate neural pathways.
The infinite galaxy of darkness and sparks that you “see” when you're a kid, and you're bored, and you press the heels of your hands against your closed eyes.
“That's what I look like on the inside,” you think.
Like a floating sylph, journeying through space.
Then I turn 43, pop the hood, and I'm like, “A light switch?”
Forget complex; I have two settings. Two.
And I don't even use both of them.
There's my primary, go-to setting: