Title: Optional

Text: I talk often of death, of his death and mine, and of the deaths of the people we love. I will not let him hide from the fact that we are both going to die, and it will surely be too soon for either one of us. We will be dead a long, long time. That will be it. There is no meaning. It's a random universe, and time is short. It slips even as he wastes it complaining, feeling sorry for himself, trying to be special, to be compensated for his misfortunes. Each paragraph will be a test.

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