It all seems fucking hopeless. You did everything you were supposed to do. You always turned off the lights when you left the room, you always washed behind your ears, and you always paid some shady college of professions every time you thought you were capable of doing something worthwhile and wanted to prove it. YOU ARE WORTH SOMETHING! FUCK THIS! It's time to prove how worthwhile you truly are. What's the best way to prove this fact? Why by showing them everything they are going to miss out on if you were gone of course, but it has to be better than that.... you have to leave your mark on the Earth as you pass. How could you take yourself out while accomplishing something at the same time? Is there a way to help humanity while removing your own life from this infinitely suffering plane of existence? Why yes! Who needs help more than anyone? Those who cannot help themselves I'm sure. The poor homeless people, desperately mentally ill, freezing in the frost-bitten, limb amputation station cold. You realize you can feed them with your sweet, sweet body. Pure love with cannibalistic sacrifice. You bolt out of your mom's basement in a flurry of thoughtless abandon. You knock over your frail Granny as she attempts to knock on your door. "Sorry Big Granny!" you gleefully shout as you leap past her broken body, "I have to save the world!". As you tear across the lawn you barrel straight into your cute little neighbour child Pepe attempting to get up on his bicycle without training wheels. "So long little sucker!" You yell as he sobs upon noticing his bleeding knee. You straight up sock a lawyer looking fuck in the face as he exits his SUV. FUCK IT ALL! You scream. This is it! You've found joy, bliss, and purpose! Nothing can stop you as you kick in the door of the Happy Puppy Food company. You tear up a metal stair-case as hair netted supervisors chase you. You see the boiling vat of quasi-food stuff gurgling with a giant agitator churning the shit up from the bottom. With an infinite grin splattered across your stupid face you leap and land in the sludge. Just as the blades begin to tear your frail body apart, you look up towards the sign on the wall across; the wagging tongued dog that serves as the mascot of this factory reminds you suddenly that the slop produced here is solely pet grade, and will never grace the plate of any poor hobos. "NOOOO!!!" You scream. As the surgical masked supervisors peer horrified across the lip of the vat, you catch their eye. "Tell the bums to eat more dog food!" before the F grade slop enters your mouth and mercifully chokes you out of existence.