The world doesn't care about you. The world doesn't care about anything. The world just exists. It's not even society because that's pittance, too against the backdrop of eternity. So what would an individual matter? Why do I work so hard? It's not really for anything but self-gratification no matter how hard I try to deny it. You, too. You more than me, probably, because you stands for everyone. But where does this drive come from? From where is this ambition? I think it's from within me. I think I can't stop it. I think I'll never give up despite the disappointments, despite the let-downs, despite the spite that stabs me and encases me in its cruel bubble. In spite of it.