Life is beautiful.
I rediscovered that fact today—right after almost collapsing from exhaustion.
Thankfully, the ring in my pocket kicked in just in time. Boosted my recovery enough that I could crawl away from the brink of death and into something far better:
Food.
Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to say that I devoured three full plates of fried chicken rice.
What? Why are you looking at me like that?
I'm a growing young man, okay? I need calories if I want to build a heroic, non-crumbly body. This is science.
And right now, I was halfway through my fourth plate.
I took another glorious bite, leaned back in my chair, and let out a long, blissful sigh. Then, with my hands clasped like I was praying, I sent a silent tribute.
Rest in peace, noble chicken. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.
Your crispy, juicy legacy now lives on in my belly.
Honestly, I owed my life to that chicken. But there was someone else I needed to thank, too.
