You will soon be thirty years old. Even if you now fifteen years old you almost thirty years. You are copywriter, designer, maybe even the manager, especially if you're out of luck. You have to just 52 Friday per year, about the number of Saturdays you aren't so sure. You can count the people at your funeral on the fingers of both hands, even if you have fingers like Yeltsin. Your life is meaningless. Print this article and stick to your monitor.