The world is filled with cliches and love. It all gets to be so much. I wish to crawl inside of myself, if only to avoid the poorly framed sentiment of others. Sometimes I do. There are still some who would try to make me feel guilty for lying in bed all day, watching old films, napping as needed, rewinding the narrative to where I drifted off, only to drift off again, enjoying the leisureliness of time that the childless might call boredom in their many endless hours of luxury.