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the dark beauty of life.
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Youth goes by so quickly. Old age creeps up on you with omipotent force. After death there is absolutely nothing. Your body and your mind hate the soothing escape of drugs, and let you know it. They love food that tastes awful, and painful exercise. Any discipline you pursue presents you with murderous competition, no matter how good you are.
Despite all this, is it even preferable that this miraculous, sadistic undercurrent to life be anything other than what it is? There was an infinitesmally small chance that you would even be born, yet somehow you beat those overwhelming odds. There is sublimity deep within the insanity and misery, making it all well worth it.
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