In the grand scheme of things,
It doesn't really matter.

Whether I get into college,
Or get a job,
Or become really rich.

Even if I am poor,
And a failure,
And end up homeless.

It's all the same.

Either way, I will be a speck,
A little piece
In an ever-changing universe.

Whatever I do,
It won't matter.
I will still die.

But all we seem to do
Is **** ourselves.

We work our lives away,
Just to gain
That one momentary pleasure.

So yeah, I don't want to work for a living.
Or get married,
Or have kids.

It doesn't matter, after all.

Of course, I might care,
At least for a little bit,
If I could live.

To choose a path
Whose reward
Is a longer life.

But only for a little.
Because it must be hell
To live forever.

To constantly watch everyone else die,
Or live forever with everyone you hate.
Take your pick, it's all the same.

Life itself is hell,
Death is hell,
And anything in between is meaningless.

It truly is.

What I'm trying to say, is...
We all want to die,
But we all want to live.