I hate pretending I'm fine. I'm tired and feel like there's no point. Let's be real, there is no point, truly. We'll all die, the world itself will die, and we're just an unimportant blip in time. We are nothing. I am nothing. We may not even exist anyway, but there's no way to know for sure.
Write it down. Let it go. No account, no name.
“Throw an insult on the ground and its owner will find it” gets proven too many times
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