There’s a damn good reason you’re confused. You’ve never grasped that there’s nothing to grasp. I—your savior, handpicked by fate’s cruel whim—have volunteered to drag you into the light.
It’s dead simple. Stop thinking, and it’ll all click. Why bother? You’re itching to interrupt, to spew some opinion, but I’ve heard them all—and torched them. So, out of my boundless compassion, I’m sparing you the effort. I’m cutting you loose from the burden of doing anything. That’s my grace, my gift, straight to you.
You can’t stay confused—I won’t allow it. I hereby decree you free of it. Why? Because I honor your desires, your so-called free will, even if you’re too muddled to see it.
Yes, my friend, I’m here to rescue you from your worst enemy—the one you’ve sculpted in that skull of yours since reason first sank its claws in. But for me to save you, you’ve got to let me.
Let me pry you loose from yourself. That voice whispering nasty things about me? That’s the one you must relinquish.
Who knows what you need—you, floundering in your little haze, or me, the only one who’s ever shown you real love? That time I struck you? Pure affection. Respect. You might disagree, but that’s just your brain lying to itself, not the truth, not mine, not yours.
Listen close. Stop worrying—there’s no point. I’m here to shield you from the real monsters, the choices that’ll ruin you. Stick with me, and you’re safe. Truly safe.
Oh, and remember. You have amnesia...
What are these things I scribble down sometimes? Your guess is as good as mine, honestly. I must be tapping into some warped mental frequency lately.
Everywhere I look, Orwellian messages swarm. Battles for meaning rage, waged by people who couldn’t care less about the common man yet swear they’re our champions. Politicians obsess over the spectacle they stage, ignoring the actual work of being effective.
Today, our own government declared a so-called day of liberation. Slavery is now freedom, neglect is care, apathy is mercy. We’re expected to embrace these new financial shackles with gratitude—because, they claim, these taxes are for our benefit.
The war over meaning is lost.
MenO
