Format the following passage properly, for storytelling purposes. Keep it as written, don't change a single word, but            improve grammar when and where necessary.

Having made it through another day and realizing that it has been a long time since I sat down to do some serious writing, I take a step in what seems like the right direction. Glancing northwest, I observe a slightly torn—and now considerably defaced—poster for Solo: A Star Wars Story. Its collectors’ value now in the toilet, but its personal value at an all-time high, I take a look at a message I wrote to myself, shortly after an intimidating encounter with a certain staff member here at the Joshua House. It was meant partially in rebuttal to her having told a housemate of mine that they’re “not special.” While I understand exactly what she meant, from the standpoint of that staff member wanting to give everyone in the house equal treatment—meaning no one would be shown any sort of favoritism—the words still stung me like a cut, though I had not been the recipient. As a way of healing myself, I wrote the following words for personal consideration. “A message to myself: You are a child of the moon and stars. You are special, no matter what anyone says. You deserve nothing but the best. Don’t let this world beat you into submission. Always believe in yourself, even if no one else does. Never stop being the beautiful person you are. Never forget this also: throughout your life, you will come across many who do not understand your heart or care to understand you. No matter how badly they treat you, never return the favor. ‘The best revenge is to be unlike him who performed the injury.’ Rise like the sun. Let your light shine. In the end, the victory is yours. Good luck—I know you will win. –Cameron McCaffrey” At later dates, the poster was expanded with more sentiments: “‘In the face of intelligence, ignorance dies.’ You can always control your reactions; their actions are theirs.” “You were born to be a champion! Never surrender!” For some reason, I decided to draw a crescent moon above the word ‘moon’ and five stars above the word ‘stars.’ It seems words can have a far greater impact on me when there is a visual element connected to them somehow. Over the last few months, some amazing things have happened. I finally heard back from Holly Gauthier-Frankel, a personal muse and subject of my admiration for more than two decades, on not one but two separate occasions. I had the good fortune of finding out that I am going to be staying indefinitely at the Joshua House, on a ‘scholarship’ of sorts. At least for the time being, the Jewish Federation that runs JARC—the Jewish Association for Residential Care—is investing in me. Provided a cruel twist of fate does not force me into a different set of circumstances, I will be able to stay here for the foreseeable future. I have begun to take my place in the community, understanding that it is not always about what it can do for me but how I can be of service to them. I came into a large collection of VHS tapes, and while the VCR I inherited from my former housemate Richard was no longer working, I was able to obtain a functional one with a portion of my escrow funds. I can only hope that this one lasts for a while. “That therapist really helped,” Richard’s ‘successor’ calls out to me from what is now his room. “I love her.” I can’t help but be happy for David, the young man who filled the void that had temporarily been created by way of Richard’s departure. We are similar in more than a few ways, enough so that staff has more than once mistaken one for the other. “I think part of the reason I’m thinking more clear today is because of that therapist I went to today,” David says after knocking on my door. “It helps! Don’t they?” “Yeah,” I say. It is good to know his ‘thinking material’ is becoming clearer, for lack of a better phrase. I head out to retrieve a large cardboard box, containing a chair that had recently been ordered. I’ll likely be tasked with its construction. I have already been tasked with the role of Edna Turnblad in a forthcoming production of “Welcome to the 60s” (based on Hairspray). Though I thought my Wilbur was better, it is a blessing to have a role that gives an actor multiple songs to perform, plus a plethora of comedic moments. It feels like a lot of people are in my corner. How many will stay with me? How many will turn on me? Through it all, I have learned to never stop looking out for my own needs. After all, the ability to love another starts with loving your own self. Liberating my battle-weathered electric razor, complete with a thumb-sized crack between the power button and the Norelco logo, from a charger that has likewise stood the test of time, I am greeted with a notification. Apparently, I have 34 minutes’ worth of shaving time available to me with a full charge; fortunately, none of my sessions ever last half of that distance. Tempting though it is to abandon this document and engage in yet another session, I put that plan on hold. “Today, we’re playing Watchdogs,” David says from the comfort of his room, with enough amplitude that I can hear every word loudly and clearly. “I’m in the future!” He places an emphasis on ‘future’ that hits the sweet spot between being exciting and obnoxious. It has become like a catchphrase for the two of us. I’ve been known to follow his iterations with my own, sometimes of my personal volition, on other occasions with his encouragement. The undersea hijinks of SpongeBob SquarePants resonate from the television in the living room, complete with stock Hawaiian music. “Cut it out!” our long-suffering house manager calls out pleadingly to housemate Greg, who has a penchant for gritting his teeth. As one episode of SpongeBob ends, another begins. For some reason, the theme is much lower-pitched than normal. All is peaceful again.