so i've decided what i want to do with my life. get rich, buy some secluded mansion, and live out the rest of my life as an eccentric recluse surrounded by a gabillion chickens and my cat lei lei. and i'll paint and draw all day long and the entirety of my social life will exist on the internet. maybe that doesn't make me quite a recluse, but close enough. it's easier not to care about people if you only ever meet them online. and i can live out a billion imaginary lives through writing stories and maybe even convince myself that they're more real than my reality. die early, and then the world can discover my art and stories and be hailed a literary genius. my stuff might not be that great. but everything's better after the artist is dead.

when you die, if you think you're going to heaven but all there really is is nothingness, it doesn't really matter. you could die with hope and never have to know you were wrong.