Do we stop being impostors the moment everyone is finally convinced we are who we say we are?
To say that 2020 has been a maddening year would be the biggest understatement ever.
The more I think about pinning down who the “authentic self” is, the more I question that it even exists.
There’s nothing that drives you further down into introspection like the waning high of your birthday that’s almost about to end (except probably a close brush with death, a bus speeding at 100 kilometers per hour barely colliding with the car you’re in at a highway—but that’s another story.) I’m writing this two hours before…… Continue reading “The Universe is Having a Wank”: Teleological Explorations, By Way of Birthdays
As I went to bed and fell asleep, I started dreaming about dying, and I thought about how I slowly started to unravel, like fabric that had started to fray and were now becoming threads of different colors again.