Life is remarkably pointless
But I like rooms where you can stand on the bed and touch the ceiling
I like big mirrors and smoke,
When you're working your physical limits enough that you can feel the strain on your heart and lungs,
I like company
And I like being alone
Life is pointless and long and the world seems incredibly large and I am very far away but we are so astonishingly small.
And I guess it is okay
That there is no point to it at all

(I wonder if you ever check this site and get disappointed when I haven't written anything about you)
(I wonder if instead you are relieved)