Sometimes, I’ll get caught up in the idea that our lives are a series of exhausting transactions, an endless defense of our self-worth and value. Then I remember there’s enough metaphysical wiggle room to allow for the possibility we might be in a simulation, that we aren’t yet certain whether consciousness is a fluke of material interaction, how much free will we actually have (if any), and other seemingly unanswerable matters.
As long as I have that wiggle room, I’ll focus on framing my life as an adventure–not an oppressive horror-survival, or a Sisyphean slog that only lets up when I breathe my last.


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