Am I worth the space I take up, and the portion of air I pollute, am I freaking worth?
Because I know that anyone read this mess is worth, I’m quite sure there’s someone who wants to be them and wants to stay in touch, and who doesn’t wanna wake up if the person who’s reading is the waker.
And, heck yeah, I believe one’s existence is justified by someone else’s love or affection or something like that, something sweet and similar to blessing, always hand in hand with jealousy and some pain. And, yes, jealousy plus something equals affection, which in turn equals worth and justifies existence. Period.
Jokes aside: am I freaking worth the space I take up? Well, for I know there is a painter who angry with only hanging out with a musician not caring for painter’s feelings, well if that’s jealousy my existence’s kinda justified, for jealousy equals love. Period. Or if it’s not jealousy, if jealousy is when you ask you can hardly without to answer your messages for once and being angry doesn’t, if it’s the latter I might very well be a waste, or am I not. Wich is it?
Oh, sorry, told you, mess.