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No one is “happy” all the time or “sad” all the time, are they? I don’t know, they seem like transitory things, like the weather; they come and go; nothing is a permanent state. That’s part of the problem. I didn’t like the transitory nature of any of it. I didn’t like being young, and I didn’t like the fact that I would get older; I didn’t like the fact that I would gain weight, grow taller, grow out of my favorite shirt, have to get my hair cut, would need to shave one day, brush my teeth every day, graduate from one grade and move on to the next, leave home, go to college, get a job, retire, die. None of it interested me. I never got the point.
Gregory Galloway, The 39 Deaths of Adam Strand (via barbieandken)

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