Editor’s note: Rob Long is not a medical professional or licensed provider of psychedelics. He may, in fact, be high while writing this column. Nothing herein constitutes pharmaceutical advice or guidance, and should not be used to inform diagnoses or treatment.

Not too long ago, I watched a certifiable, internationally famous movie star record a public service announcement. He walked up to the microphone, adjusted the lectern, cleared his throat and then, without even looking back, extended his right arm behind him

His fingers opened, and suddenly a bottle of cold water was right there. How? Because his assistant, in a constant state of anticipation, knew that his boss would reach out for the bottle—and had it prepared.

The movie star never bothered to check to see if it was coming. He didn’t need to. He took a long sip and, again, reached back without looking, this time dropping the bottle back in the assistant’s waiting hands. He looked up from his script and asked, quietly, “So, are we ready?”

Now that, I thought to myself, is what living in a bubble must be like.

It’s easy to forget, for most of us, how all-embracing such a cocoon can be for the lucky few. There’s always someone wondering what, exactly, you might need to make yourself happy. Or if not happy, at least content. The water you might want to drink; the shoes you might like to wear; the itch you might need to scratch—whatever occurs to you, whether by whim or necessity, is planned for and prepared and, in the case of my movie star friend, ready to be plucked out of the air, unseen. It must be nice.

But all of that cosseting comes with dark complications. As Matthew Perry, the late star of the........

© The Daily Beast