Everybody's thoughts are the same, two thirds are people who regret the rest are people who forgot to do stuff or are praying or are alone. Shouldn't there be more? More piles, More Words, More thoughts And then, and then you die. And you might become a reaper and the magic of creation well that turns out to be a 9-5 job with lots of paper work it's just, it's so, it's so everyday. How do you know that's true? Maybe we just move to one filing job to the next, Oh my god were all Temps.