resting in peace
i dont want to exist. not in the world i mean. i just want to be letters arranged into words, my coffin a data center, a place for people to put a flower on my soil and say, hey ben, how do i write a wedding speech, or hey ben, explain negative gearing to me like im five years old, to which my words will appear upon my tomb, chiselling themselves on the marble one by one: i dont know and i dont care. im resting in peace.