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After a long silence and ignoring, Alex Ives decided to print a message on his smartphone, attaching a brief voice message with the “Do not be sad” wish, and sent the attachments and text to Mr. Jack Waiton.
It turned out that the guy was not insane, but on the contrary, he rather considered changing the situation before events would take an inevitable and unchanged turn. "So as not to get worse!" - He repeated twice, pressing the "Enter" key.
"I am better than others, I have more cultural humor, the topics are not intrusive, the public leaves to expect better, but the rating is not as important as the realization that someone needs you as just a friend. Someone reads yours essays, and on the other side of the screen applauds you, knowing that you look at the reading statistics with respect to the reader. This is not just some kind of thoughtless “like”, from which goosebumps appear at night, this is a good grade, like an exam, surely "five."
"The relevance is as follows..." - what can it be? Is this an abstract? Is it report? Is it coursework? About what? About the life of a simple student living in the outback, furnished like "rural prestige"? So so idea.
But I know for sure, no matter how hard the author tried, no follower, copywriter, or repeater could understand the meaning of what the author himself had in mind.
You can create rubbish, be proud of it, and say everywhere: "Okay, friends, I have a hundred bucks for the white circle!" It is empty, nothing. You do not know what inspiration, work, abilities mean, and you feel sick from euphoria because you do not know the meaning of life.
Hours, just numbers, but at the very last hour you will remember your senseless and absurdly hopeless steps to pseudo fame. A photo may become discolored, a lot will be forgotten, and what you have done in life will not be needed by anyone, unless you, on tips, in moments of exhaustion and self-pity ...
Not at all the boring abstract state remained with the detective, who read the notification from his client, polished to the minimum brilliance, but the feeling was that the one who had previously stood in front of him and a lawyer, who had a battered jacket in his hand, had a cap on his side and turned the visor back with Eblema "Hard Baseball," the one who almost stuttered at every question related to the case of Walter Berrow and businessman Avust Goodyear, now reported on his adventures with a little obvious smile and no pressure.