All the stage’s a world

Whether you like it or not, you are living in a simulation. Not the loony theory Elon Musk harps on about us all being players in an alien’s Xbox. Not even the loonier theory that that alien is Mark Zuckerberg.

Your simulation is the habit you insist on calling, living.

Go to school, get a job, go to school again, get a better job, get married, have kids, kids go to school, get a job, go to school again, get a better job, get married, have kids, their kids go to school, get a job, go to school again, get a better job, get married, have kids.

What makes this game both somewhat depressing and undeniably interesting is that we all believe we are different.

The game is not a circle as it’s often made out to be. You are rewarded for the number of people you recruit into the simulation. You are also rewarded if the people you recruit bring more people with them. The shape isn’t a circle. It’s a pyramid.

The few people who see through the scheme that is the simulation get excited and start warning everyone about it. And so, in honor of their service to humanity, they get put to death and have a scheme named after them. Congratulations. Can we get back to listing the various ways to shame the couples who still don’t have kids?

If you think you can give everyone the finger and walk away, you are falling for one of the scheme’s most insidious traps: the need to be special. And that’s what keeps you trapped in the simulation, in the first place.

As soon as society gets wind of your plans to disturb the simulation, it sends the trusted army of gaslighters after you. For some years now, the simulation has tried to convince me that marriage is the ultimate salvation and that without it, I would never be whole. Thanks to that, I am now happily married. Yeah, bollocks. Thanks to it, I finally felt the one feeling I have always wanted to have all my life: I can both love people and not give a shit what they think. I am not against marriage, but against what the simulation has done to it. To have turned it into an institution that is all about getting used to another human being instead of being in love: you know, the thing that actually makes you whole.

The real aliens are people who haven’t bothered to know themselves. The simulation is their only identity. They hit auto play a while ago. They aren’t evil, just stupid. Saviours who do not know to save themselves.

And they are all around you.

And they love you.

And you owe them nothing.

Don’t trade your adventure for acceptance. That doesn’t mean you hate them. That’s just starting a new simulation. A cult superior to a cult ad infinitum. Everything you owe, you owe to creation. The war on the past is a numbers game, and the pyramid is stacked against you—you will not win through rationality and rebellion. The only way to win is through realization.

“Do not try and bend the spoon—that’s impossible. Instead, only try to realize the truth.”
“What truth?”
“There is no spoon.”

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