There are days I want to burn it all down — the agents, the systems, the six-week sprints of 18-hour breakthroughs. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I don’t want to be reached, improved, or inspired. I want to crawl into a dark room, roll a joint, queue up some moody music, eat something that’s 80% bread and cheese, and just be. No strategy. No optimization. Just indulgence, softness, solitude. Pizza. Sex. Games. Maybe a martini by a pool if the universe is generous. And I used to feel guilty about this.