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 slowly chisel themselves upon my tombstone:
I
D O N T
K N O W
A N D
I
D O N T
C A R E