i want to die doing yoga under an erupting volcano
with an expression on my face like someone smells but it's not their fault
(and even though they stink i still feel bad for noticing, but i digress)
and my last words would be "take a photo it'll last longer"
secretly hoping i would be immortalized on the front of TIME magazine
and part of me wishes that this would happen
because print media is dying and it needs that big story
i don't look at magazines anymore because i miss nintendo power too much
no one looks at magazines anymore because they already read whatever they had to say two days ago on twitter
and sometimes it feels like no one reads anything anymore because everything was already said two million years ago by shakespeares plagiarized inspirations or the bible or something
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