My world is a beautiful world. I am half-convinced that no one else’s world is as great as mine. Everyone else is just kidding themselves, because there is nothing that could top this. My world is a joy, every day. Even on the worst, most stressful, confusing, downright terrible days, I still cannot help but feel smashing. And why should I not? My world is golden. It is the best I have ever known (hehe), to be sure. I have everything I could ever want: life, learning, love, liberty, luck, laughter (alliteration (and consonance)). This world may not be the best ever (sorry, Pangloss, it is true), but my world is. Better get used to it.
From what stems this all? I have no idea. I am just in the mood for marveling, and what is more marvelous than me?