Man, I struggle, I fight and knuckle through my pride and the rubble of life, this tussle can’t be muscled to subside or die, I just try and try but I’m pried from salvation like it’s miles up high and I’m jumping, and reaching, and sometimes I might succeed at feeling successful and for a moment the stress nulls, but man all my life I’ve been growing resentful of all those credentials, those labels, degraded by millennials who pretend to be something they will never be, who play the part of society like chess pieces in a game of checkers, regressing from messing with addictions because it’s unpleasant living in the world the way it is, and here I am, knuckles cracking, addicted and lacking all sense of direction, and yet I am laughing at all these activists and actors who pretend to be the same thing I do, a man with a plan to do good.

Unintentionally the longest run-on sentence ever.