phillesh
Well, whaddya think? I suppose we could. I mean I know we could, but....ya know. I'm not quite sure how it'll turn out. I mean I want to, but...you know. I can't. Well, you've got a point. I suppose I could.
I think I will.
It took awhile; I had to trudge through a lot, over land of varying terrain, rugged and rocky in its texture, sometime so sharp that its points pierced through my feet, holding me back. But I made it.
We're just a multitude of molecules floating around in a giant chemical reaction, so why am I sitting at a desk, answering a phone, and filing papers eight hours a day, five days a week? Could I not be learning and enriching myself? Am I not a slave to society's paper mosque?
His life seemed unsuccessful. Nothing to strive for, a meaningless existence of pure suffering, life's bright moments merely reflections of light in a dark cave, illuminating the impurities of the rock, its true face uncovered, dark and gritty.