Diatribe against 80 hour weeks.

I just sentenced myself to this.

Overall efficacy declines in the long run.

Anyone who counts hours spent per week certainly doesn’t enjoy the activity. Like me now, sentenced.

These people have cubicle jobs that don’t require manual labor—they most certainly don’t even vacuum their own workspace or empty their own trash. Manual labor requires certain grueling work stints, but in short spurts, not as a regular program. Implementation of regular program=loss of productivity.

Well that was easy.

You’re making all this shit up as you go. Like you know all. Age 14. No love.

I’m at your feet.

Having trouble even in my current state to view Insurance as anything but evil: as an occupation, an idea, everything, no more to say.

If only I truly couldn’t care. I don’t: confidence is fine, at least it’s internally formed. Insurance is shit.

Forsaken me.

People give me creativity, fodder. Spite verb as gasoline.

Neuroses provides me with all needed to say. Even last statement.
Incomplete sentences. When writing for oneself, doesn’t matter. Basically typing practice.

Self righteous idiots sinking into the ocean to suffer inscrutable, soaking drenched gasp eyeroll death. Maudlin public replenishing water lost when people died. Our bodies are 70 percent you know. Is now the time to bring it out, would it seem to forced, or insincere? Fucking code word language bullshit. Die assholes I hate you. Die from intolerable suffering before suffocation. Anyone working in the insurance industry: die terrible death.