I am so blessed

Hello
I am depressed because of the whole slew of problems that I have right now which are that I have a job where I make no money, despite the fact that I am both pretty and smart, I owe roughly one million dollars to everyone and the mites in their beds, and all my problems basically boil down to money, the owing and absence of it, the shitty nature of normal job having, and how the old way of life is no longer an option.
I am depressed.
But at least I have his face to see, and his body to hug. He doesn’t dissolve my problems for me, but offers me a temporary respite from them.
And by ‘He’ I mean Jesus. That boy can really spoon!
One other thing which is actually good, but feels really bad right now is that I quit smoking although I did cheat last night since I worked all day and made 60 dollars, got a $133 ticket, and a flat tire, and this little cunt I work with was all like, ‘you have to find one last honey’, and also telling me that I had to roll 65 sets of silverware, despite the fact that I only had 4 tables, one of which didn’t even use silverware because it was Cris and Adam and they were just getting drunk.
Here are the reasons I shouldn’t be smoking:
1) It’s expensive
2) I feel asthmatic when I run, and I want to be in shape and healthy and have a nice body and also look good, so I’ll at least have that even though I’m a standard American who is poor and in debt
3) Cancer
4) Yellow teeth
5) Global warming
6) Wrinkly face (I am vain)
7) Coughing up loogies made even more disgusting by the fact that they have been made brown by tar and smut and rat poison

So after that, I don’t really feel any better about my life, but at least I feel more like an asshole for feeling so sorry for myself about stupid little problems since I am a huge baby.
All I want to do is live in a modest cabin on a cliff over looking the sea and spend my time on metal sculpture, culinary experimentations, herb gardening, writing, and blowing my man. Is that too much to fucking ask!?!
I don’t want a Bentley. I don’t want 24’s. I don’t want a pool in the shape of a dollar sign. Gucci and Prada, I don’t want a lotta. I don’t want any. Just cozy sweaters, a fireplace, a tea kettle, a library I’ll never exhaust, an ocean to swim in, even if it’s too cold to swim in, some friends, and most especially a Cris, but only one who spells his name without an ‘h’ and who ignores ‘I before e except after c’.
Also I don’t want to pay taxes.
I was just looking around trying to think of what I’d write next, holding my jaw in my hands, when I realized, my face feels really small. Great! I have an abnormally small head. Something else to feel self conscious about! Whoopeeeeee!