At conception, you consented to the terms of existence.
Didn’t you read the fine print?
They snuck some pretty heavy shit in there. Sometimes I dare voice the oft unspoken truth, but I can’t. I stop out of fear. Fear of spoiling everyone’s fun. So we all just keep on bumbling through our daily existences like it lasts forever. And like we’ve actually got things to prove and places to be. Like there’s something serious and important about our lives, despite the actual fact of our place in geologic time and universal space. Yup, we’re just dust in the wind, writing in the sand, and yada, yada, yada. And we waived all disputes when we consented to the terms of existence: no arbitration, no mediation, and no litigation.
Fucking contracts of adhesion.
BUT, if you read the terms carefully, you’ll find that the term “reality” is not contractually defined. Webster’s has several approximations:
1) the true situation that exists : the real situation
Great. Reality is what’s real. Thanks for the unequivocal ambiguity, Webster. This ambiguity, however, is our opportunity. Reality is, whatever you fucking say it is. It is the result of: (1) what you choose to do, and (2) what you choose not to do.
Number 2 is deceivingly significant because many of the obligations that appear obligatory are actually illusory. B-b-but, what does this vague abstraction actually mean? The answer likely depends on the circumstances surrounding one’s existence (location, children, friends, health, finances). What I can say is this: next time you think you HAVE to do something, just think again. Maybe in reality, you don’t.