My ego dictates that I write this right now, and I will not fight it this time. Whenever I take up arms against this curious opponent, I inevitably end up turning the gun on myself. My ego is a tricky thing– it would prefer to exist as unlabeled and free-flowing, though I must give it traits (being the human I am). My ego likes long walks on the beach (though, more accurately, my ego likes having acknowledged taking a long walk on the beach and making fun of me for being so cliché).
Swig some bourbon and rate
your childhood Methodist experiences
like you never left the church
(and certainly never lost the faith).
You may find that your actions seem hollow,
but you will certainly notice
that the bourbon is especially delicious
when sarcastically recanting your religion
(best when done in moderation).