There's no list. Order's a trick, something man created to try to justify their life. The basis for religion, lists. 1,2,3,4. It's all the same. When the stars flare out, eons after we're a collective speck of carbon, they won't know a list. They'll know nothing, like us. Knowing is nothing. Just random molecules finding a new path. We'll die off in a blink, in a forever to our confused conscious. *chews tab off of beer can* Strikta's list does go on forever. And it doesn't start at all. Just pressure on keystrokes. Lost, but only a few blinks quicker than everything else. *carves tab into the shape of a vagina* *drinks non-tabbed beer* I'd like to see that list *laughs*
In.
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