What Else Is There To Do In

And As The Elevator Descents, Passing The Second Floor, And The First Floor, Going Even Father Down, I Realize That The Money Doesn't Matter. That All That Does Is That I Want To See The Worst

What Does That Mean Know Me, Know Me, Nobody Ever Knows Anybody Else, Ever! You Will Never Know Me.

But... What About Us? What About The Past?" She Asks Blankly. "the Past Isn't Real. It's Just A Dream," I Say. "don't Mention The Past.

I Don't Want To Care. If I Care About Things, It'll Just Be Worse, It'll Just Be Another Thing To Worry About. It's Less Painful If I Don't Care.

I Am Gripped By An Existential Panic.