If I didn’t need sleep, I’d write — a lot.
I’d study structure, tone, rhythm.
I’d draw more, not just what I see but how I see it — the weird shit my brain catches that most people overlook.
I’d read more books — philosophy, science fiction, even some old classics.
I’d learn more about history:
Los Angeles, the U.S., where my family is from in Mexico.
Then I’d wander outward — Europe, Latin America, Africa, the Middle East.
I’d study economics:
capitalism, socialism, communism, Marxism — all the systems humans invented to convince themselves they’re right.
I’d give time to charity.
Maybe two or three hours every couple of days.
Just helping people would feel good.
I’d focus on income funnels.
On investing.
On psychology.
On becoming better at writing, drawing, storytelling, discipline.
If I didn’t need sleep, I’d basically spend all my extra hours trying to build something real —
a life that feels like mine.
A life I won’t regret.
Call it crazy.
Maybe it is.
But that’s the truth.
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