Life.
Life.
Living.
Who done it?
Who am I?
What the purpose?
Post cumming.
Existential dread.
Why?
Desire?
Craving?
Reproduction?
Am I some biological machine, tricked into believing I have free will, playing out a series of predetermined actions?
I'm not sure. Fuck it, let's have fun.
Can these questions be answered?
Sure, I guess so. Maybe, everything is possible.
Do they need to be?
Does anything?
Do I need to answer them?
No.
That I am certain of.
On, off.
There is no in between.
Might as well focus on other things.
Who do I want to be?
What do I want to spend my time doing?
What impact do I want to have on the world around me?
Compost!
Worms!
Poop!
Let's get it.
Like Lil Pump, pour a cup, forget about the haters and get mo fuckin crunk.
