This is a ramble that I thought was suitable at the time (7:50 pm AEST).
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I have many things to say. Things that, when said, do little else but to show some unfortunate reader what it might be like to be the writer of this wthisthis (a reflection, I suppose; the word seemed appropriate at the time of conception). There may be consequences. I don't care. I don't care that this should probably be in a blog or something. As I said, this felt suitable at the time. I don't care that this might appear as a wall of unreadable text, because right now, I can only see four lines. I don't care, I don't care, I don't care.
I really don't care about a lot of things anymore (there, a paragraph). I don't have any hope, even though I am not in despair. Perhaps a lot of people feel the way I feel, but they probably dismiss it as something temporary or not worth expressing. Like I'm doing right now. Heh. There are things I'd rather be doing, sure, like taking a shower, but not until I'm satisfied with how this turns out. I'll probably trash it in the end and drown myself in the shower (good luck). I will not be optimistic, because in the end, I'll just end up like a piece of trash among a world of six billion, like trillions before my time. I am not ambitious enough to become immortal, in the metaphorical sense of the word, yet that is the very thing I yearn for - out of fear, if anything. Perhaps I will become 'immortal', but I highly doubt it. Maybe this is greed. Maybe I have better things to achieve. Maybe I'm just a selfish ****wit. I don't care. I don't even know if immortality is the thing I'm looking for. Maybe it's some SATISFACTION.