Okay, Don’t Freak Out, but….

I think I figured it all out. The big shebang, the whole tamale, what it’s all about. And it sort of doesn’t require anyone any longer. And, in fact, now that I get it, I may as well get the whole game over with.

Me. It’s about me. I’m the gamer. I’m the problem. I’m the solution. It’s my fucked up, crazy world. I am divinity, I am a deity, I am the creator. And I? Am also the destructor. Me.

Now, I’ve never been narcisitic enough to believe that it’s really all about me, in the general sense, anyway. But, here I sit, coming to wonder if I actually am enough of a narcissist to believe. I mean, if no one is in a forest when a tree falls, does it make a sound? So likewise, when I walk out of one space and into another? Does it still exist? Or am I in my very own holodeck, the world crumbling behind me and re-building before me as I stalk the halls of Wolfenstein’s castle?

Chill out, people, I’m not about to end the weird game we all seem to be inside of. We’re not done here. And, self-harm and I don’t play. So aside from tinging my lungs and soaking my liver at the bar? I’m gold, Pony Boy.

The truth is, I don’t like this idea, that this is all somehow my own Truman show. The existential implications are incredibly vast. I mean, if I created this world somehow, then that means I did the fucking up of it, to boot. My friends, my family, my children? Would not be any more real than Roy Farnsworth and his father’s carpet store. (And in fact, was that an Easter egg I hid away for myself? God damn, I’m clever.)

What will I do with this newfound theory? What else? Play the game. Ima do my best to enjoy the better parts of the whole event – to be a seeker and a learner, to forgive and love more, to participate and play. And I’ll do my best to chill a bit, to not sweat the small stuff, and to never ever go back to the carpet store. (Who knew I’d find life lessons in a ridiculous cartoon?)

So, in the interest of continually learning, here’s a little tidbit I found out this morning: You can unboil an egg with your urine. For reals. So, there’s that.

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