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The Meaning of Life

The other day I was making coffee before school, and I put two wafer biscuits next to the mug so I could create a nutritionally balanced breakfast for myself, therefore creating a euphoria of geniusness for the future generations of snot-nosed brats I plan not to have.

Upon waiting for the kettle to boil, I noticed that the two wafer biscuits (strawberry flavoured, mind you), we still attatched due to some mass productivity malfunction.

With my self-diagnosis of ADHD, (and the medicated speed that comes with it), I was mesmerized by them still being stuck at the hip, so to speak. I stared at those two wafer buscuits for a very long time, ignoring my two dogs sitting at my feet, wanting to chomp them things up.

I think those two pink wafer biscuits held the meaning of life, and I’m sure if I stayed to smell the roses, I could’ve figured it out.

I broke them babies apart, and gave one to each of my dogs who were wagging their bums off. I poured the hot water into my coffee afterwards, drank it like liquid money, and walked to school.

This is what too many lemsips and aspirins do to you.

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