I don't mind living in a futile existence. I don't give it much thought. I'm a pragmatist, I guess. Everything is what it is, and unless I see a way to change it for the better, I just accept it. I am perfectly happy finding love, and beauty in the small things, invading a vagina as often as possible, and trying to cause no harm. That's all the meaning I need.
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My bowels hurt.
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