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et en arcadia ego. UGH.

millionaires build houses across the street from where I live. old people retire here. but even in paradise life sucks.

ppl lose their sweethearts to dementia. boyfriends lie. kids stress about college & girls have panic attacks & parents die. bodies stop working. people hate themselves. there’s so much ache here. so much. old people literally come here to die. and then what’s next? what is all of this future for?

but so many of these old sweethearts say they’ve had a good run. they’re sitting in the hospital chuckling and staring in the distance and nodding that it’s been good. they’re quiet & accepting & they know so much more than I do.

no mansion on the beach will make u happy. no job or swagger or college or talent or life path. bc at the end of the day one of us is going to be sitting on a hospital bed. and I hope to god that if it’s me, my wrinkled face is cute af. and that someone is by my side telling me none of it was a waste. everything was worth it. and they’re so glad they found me.

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