If I stopped existing this night, nothing would change.
Starbucks would be still expensive and everybody would continue living, nothing would be differend. Then, after years, I would be forgotten. Every book I wrote would turn into ash and every art I made would stop existing at any point. Everybody I ever know would die too and then I would never have existed.
Nobody would remember the disgusting situations and the good situations. Nobody would know who I was. Eben my grave would dissapear.
Because of this I need to live every moment the most emberessing, honest and best way. Nobody will remember the things I did. I am just a forgotten name in a big wide world.
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