Life does not come with a guide book. Basically, everything we think, do, or say, are all educated guesses derived from more educated guesses. Doug Stanhope said it best: “To be human is to be wrong,” or some shit like that.

We’re all born onto a giant rock so large that it hurtled through space until it found something larger than itself to revolve around. From there, living shit popped up and began to fuck-badda bing, badda boom- now you’re here reading some dumb shit written by a dumb shit with a computer and an infant’s knowledge on how to use the internet(turns out it is more than just porn and memes).

What was I on about?(read in a British accent it’ll make more sense) Ah yes: Life. What are we doing? Where are we going? Why do you play that game? Oooh, can I join? Oh, well I didn’t wanna play anyway. Ya see, all I have are questions, and very rarely do I have or get answers. In fact I sit around with my friends and ask: “Do you have a plan? What is going on?”

They reply: “I thought you had a plan, I don’t have a plan”

It then goes: “I don’t have a plan. So if you don’t have a plan, and I don’t have a plan. Who has a plan?

“Well, that’s the question isn’t it?”

I also forgot to mention that whenever I encounter anybody that “seems” to have the “answers” I think they are full of shit!(heavy emphasis on the air quotes, and read the underlines passage as if Lewis Black was yelling it).

This rejection of any objective truth or lack thereof leads me to think that maybe I’m the cause for the never ending revolving door of existential angst that I posses(or maybe it is a hamster wheel?).

In conclusion, I apologize if I misled you with the opening paragraph-I don’t apologize for the title. Maybe you started to reading this hoping to get some insider info on the meaning of life, only to be severely disappointed by the internal monologue of a 20 year old up late cause he can’t seem to sleep, for that I am sorry.

Cheers,

Titch

P.S. I’m full of shit too, don’t let me fool you.