I aim to crash. I aim to burn.
Whose idea was it to live as long as you can, even if that means trudging through meaningless days of a job you hate, or even one you like that’s not ever going to make you happy?
The other side answers, “Who said being happy was an option?”
And this, this little harmless question, makes you wonder if happiness is really something that exists.
Maybe it doesn’t. So I race toward those sparkling, disappearing moments where happiness doesn’t even matter.