Like being underwater now that I've let go

These circumstances are not ideal, but when are they ever? Clutter, disarray, my living room resembling the scene of a disaster recovery effort — ah, but the string of holiday lights salvages the aura with its warmth. Even in the smallest places can a garden grow. These are the fairy lights of my soul adorning the ceiling, line-dancing their way from corner to corner for so long as the music lasts. The speaker system may be unplugged, but my heart is still singing in surround sound that could give Dolby a run for its money. Listen, this is a game only as far as it is playful and occasionally diverts from what is actually going to require significant work. Ultimately, I am as serious as a heart attack but with the opposite medical effect — I start hearts that have stopped... so let me resuscitate you. That cardiovascular compromise is no laughing matter, mister, and it could spell your end if you do not find the cure! Forget Western medicine, forget an apple a day — we cure the obvious and the subtle takes over. As it happens, I have the remedy right here: a place where the light lends itself to soft repose, love, and lost control.