Sometimes I think about how nothing we ever do will last. How forever isn’t actually forever. One day everything we know will be swallowed by the sun, which will in turn collapse and swallow itself. Eventually that too will vanish, and it will not have mattered if I lived homeless on the street or brought lasting piece to the galaxy, meaning the human race, all our ambitions and hopes and faults, all our striving to be more, is pointless.
Then I have pasta and don’t care anymore.
im really mad because boobs sounds too hilarious, tits sounds too vulgar, breasts too pretentious and any other words just make me want to laugh
what word am i supposed to use while writing
wibbly wobbly booby woobies
human milk sacks
pillows for friends
boing boing bags
when you have to go around the circle and introduce yourself to the group