I keep my treasures in a chest, yet never bother with a key. I know they’re safe, because their worth is always guaranteed.

What is the tally?

I value my boldness because it pays for itself. Dollar for dollar, my bet is on action. I never wait to collect on regrets.

My expressiveness shouts its value just as loud: See me! Hear me! Taste me! Feel me! The experience economy awaits.

The value of my humor appreciates with time. Every perfect punchline is money in the bank.

Some may devalue my joy, because it seems so omnipresent. Yet no matter how much I flood the market, eager buyers keep lining the aisles.

If my logic has value, then it is priceless.

I value my liberation beyond conventional means. It’s somewhere between a kitten purring in my ear and an unexpected rainbow on a partially cloudy day.

It’s all precious loot to be sure—but none dare touch it—lest face the curse of a worthless me.