What’s the point of life? Well whose life do I mean? I’ve always gone by the self-made principle, because really, it’s you who makes your life what it is right, I mean arbitrary circumstances and oppressive systems aside, life is 99% attitude and 1% effort or sorry I forgot how the platitude goes, more like 50% attitude, 50% sweat blood tears, sweaty bloody tears, teary bloody sweat okay that isn’t right either but the point is, there is no point until you make a point which is rendered pointless when you think about it so the point being, don’t think about it? Let’s backtrack here. What is the point of my life? Everyday, every moment seems to trigger some existential crisis. The drive to work, the drive from work, windows cracked, singing off-key at the top of my lungs knowing I’m going to haphazardly park my car in the gutter until the next morning then it’s the drive to work, the drive from work, you know the rest, I’m lying in bed wondering where did I go wrong, or did I go so right that it’s all wrong, am I making any sense, stuck in another cliched mind-trap because no thought I own can ever truly be mine, nothing I say do or think is original, my life isn’t original, but is the point of my life to be original? Or is it to be good, am I good, am I a good person, I’m trying sometimes is that enough, I’m comparing myself to the worst is that enough, if I believed in hell I’d already know where I’m headed once I die, is this life not enough, do I need several lifetimes to prolong my faltering human potential and mediocrity?, no back to the purpose, the purpose, what was the point, what is the point, do I need someone to tell me, does it have to be a He cuz fuck that shit, I define this, my life, but when I’m doing such a shitty job of it can someone take the wheel, Jesus take the wheel?, no I need to fucking take the goddamn wheel and drive, driving again, driving to and from work, 9-5 all day errday, it’s the same thing over and over and yes I’m living but I’ve stopped feeling alive and I’m young and stupid but drugs and boys are not the solution, what is my solution, not this, this monotony, but I need this monotony to live even if I’m not really living, do I need fame, I said I didn’t but why the irrepressible urge to be known, to be admired, to be loved, it’s human, it’s only human, fame is just another medium, people don’t want to die alone, people want to die loved and remembered, can you be loved and remembered for driving to and from work all day errday stuck in the deep rut of monotony don’t answer that, I need to be fulfilled, I need to stop being this lazy fuck and go do something that will make me look back and say I was worth something, to people, to me, but mostly to people because I am defined by people and I’m told not to care what people think but that’s fucking bullshit everyone fucking cares about what everyone thinks why else do we talk about loneliness like it’s the worst thing in the world and love like it’s the best, the point of life is to care about what people think and make people love you and then you die, is that it, yes that’s it

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