“Let me ask you something. What do you want your life to look like?” The question alarmed me. It was the one I didn’t want to answer, and the one that pressed most frequently on my mind. I knew what I didn’t want: I didn’t want to go back to work, and do little jobs that didn’t mean anything. I didn’t want to force myself out of bed every morning, and feel like my soul was being pulled from my body. I didn’t want to live with my mother, but I didn’t want to try to find somewhere else to stay. I wanted to be free from the daily confrontation with the slow decay of humanity and everything we had
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