Every single good thing in this world has been borne only through toil or unfathomable bloodshed (there is a Restore Britain-Giga Based Dad interpretation for the telos of this, which I do not want you, reader, to take from that (terribly unoriginal) statement). Maybe it really is harder for me than for everybody else, maybe I am poorly-constituted and in a clinical depression and BPD hormonal death spiral and nothing about my life is "my" fault. It takes a lot of conscious exertion to fight the inertia and entropy of life without checking out and playing Tyler Robinson games or sleeping for 24 hours straight once I'm through with my daily reading time taxes.
I was going to go to bed and think that pretty little thought of mine for an indeterminate period of time, but that would've totally fucked up my schedule for half the week at the very least. I caught a glimpse of the golden thread yesterday, it's so very thin, have to take hold of it and never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever [8!] let it go. April 20th is a very special day.
Go, relay this post; this one isn't a false positive. 30 minutes isn't a very long time, is it? Nobody will read this attentively enough for it to even matter how thoughtful I'd been with my vocabulary. More worthless fucking blogposting text shitting up the internet, thankfully I am antisocial.
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