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Years have passed by, yet constant thoughts of deaths lingers within me. Each breath I take would befall onto illusion, a passing time bomb of how massively infuriating is it to live. Time is running fast, and I'm drowning in despair. "What is living?" It's a constant question that I seek for an answer. The same goes for "What is my purpose in life?" Such questions that I could not find any answers of my own. Existence is living I think. With fluctuating emotions that seemed to never end. It's a limitless journey for each one, until death itself comes to arrive without any notice. Despite feeling blue for years, I try to take a breath. And live life. Even thong it's not as great. God. Family and friends.
If you read this. Please live not for anybody, but for yourself.
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