Having attempted to shed all opinions about things I don't care about, hide my bitterness beneath a veneer of well-intentioned house-wifeliness that no-one could ever deserve and teach myself to embrace everything nerdly without concern for mockery, real life is trying to pull me back to caring by attempting to kill me. I'm going to let it do its business because I don't see how anyone can possibly become compatible with life while maintaining any semblance of internal dignity.
And when I'm gone I hope the planet explodes, erasing all trace of art.
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