Scrolling by sleeves and shelves of prepackaged compartments of watered down gratitude. Drowning in badges and blabbage that prove nothing. The monotony of abundance; splashing waves of shouting look this way and that. Who knows what it’s all about anymore. I could shout from the rooftops too ya know. But it’d just be more madness, more static to pile top the incessant noise. The chatter. Meh. Not today, thanks. There’s beauty, sometimes, in keeping it safely and softly tucked inside crisp cold sheets of grey matter. You’ve got your own hustle and bustle anyway. It’s okay. Thank you. I’m thankful, and that’s enough.