how nice it would be to not exist. never to go shopping again, or to wait around for other people to take their washing out of the machine. no more reading trashy magazines because you got confused by their bright shiny covers, no more obnoxious encounters with people you'd rather remained in the cesspit they crawled from.
to have lecturers demand essays from you, only to find themselves remonstrating with a prostrate pile of clothes on the floor. to be vapour, air, motes of dust, a ringing in someone's ear, a vacuum of nothingness.
BUT
i think not existing would probably get in the way of my plans to rule the world. pity, that.
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