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All of my life I wanted to be a nobody, actually. I wanted time to forget me. I wanted the world to be uncaring about my death. And yet here I am. 31 years old. It hurts to even type that. I am 31 years old. And a nobody. And that hurts. All of a sudden, I want to be a somebody. I want to accomplish something. I want the world to remember me after I die and honor and respect and love me while I am alive. I want to be a somebody. But sadly, I feel too old and I know the reality. I will whither away. The world will carry on without me. Just as it takes no notice of me now. A nobody.