Time is money. Money is a waste of time.
There is something inside of me that still cannot process the desire of mankind to be subjected to blindless consumerism and the painfully obvious accumulation of power and exploitation of the working class in capitalism.
But, I digress, I didn't decide to write to bash politics, but rather, to reveal my grievence. I feel so incredibly bound by numbers. It seems as though every mile is just another bill, and every ambition a new budget. I just simply wish that every whim was so obtainable that I could begin pursuing my desires as soon as the thoughts themselves are born within me.
Money? Money is just an inconvienience. A man's soul has no price, so it is a shame that our desires are worthless.
Mine aren't.
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