Meaningless. These letters all jumbled up in a trillion different ways but they already exist as words in every language. Why do I want a word? I just do. It’s this unjustifiable need to be special and for people to know me and to use something of my own creation and regard it as something only smart people will be able to comprehend. I want people to wonder ‘How do you think they came up with this word?’. I want people to try and come up with their own word and realise how long it took me to find a combination of letter and a meaning. A meaning for me. For my life, what would I be if I don’t try I’d I don’t desperately desire to be loved and admired. If I didn’t spend countless hours days weeks months trying to find something that can give me purpose. In the end it’s all a waste of time because no one will pick up the dictionary and wonder ‘Who made that word and why did they give it that meaning?’ But still i sit, tapping my pen on the piles of paper covered in crossed out letters p..pe..pf..pg..ph..