I thought I figured out my meaning for my existence. It was simply to help those around me at the cost of my own comfort level. However, this has not proven to be true over the past few days. It seems as though something always comes to n** me in the a** whenever I do something that I want. Is my life really supposed to be joyless? So empty of feelings of happiness?
Oh well. Time heals all wounds.
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Monotone Requiem
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