They say I’m a loser. Or a coward. They say it’s just sour grapes. But I don’t care what they say. And that’s what disturbs them the most.
It’s not that I don’t care about politics or elections, although I don’t. Religion, ideology, pop culture and sports mean nothing to me. Work? I do it but I don’t care about it. All nonsense.
They say I’m a cynic, maybe a danger to our children, our society and our future. Which is, to me, very funny because before, when I was playing their game, struggling, dying—when I desperately needed help—they ignored me. They didn’t notice I existed. And that’s all I did back then. I existed.
Now I’m odd, eccentric. Disconcerting. They act like I’m coming after them, like I’m out to destroy them. But I’m not.
I’m not even interested in them. I don’t care about them. I used to, but I got over it.
I stopped playing their game when I realized it made no sense, it was crazy. They are crazy! I was hypnotized, stupid, short-sighted. A stooge. And then I saw clearly and just could not do it anymore.
It’s not just their ideas are wrong, although they are wrong. The bigger issue is this: everything they think about, every question they ask, everything they get obsessed with is incredibly irrelevant. It’s not that their analysis is wrong; it’s that they never even ask the right questions.
The relevant question is: what should I do today? What should I do now?
But instead they tell me what politics to argue, what to watch, what to read, what to talk about and what to listen to. And every option is banal. Not a single interesting or important choice.
It’s like this—you can play the game they are all playing and sleepwalk through life. Or you can live.
I chose the latter. I play a different game. My game. Now I’m quiet about it. I let them think I’ve surrendered, that I’m one of them. I could see what would have happened. They’d have locked me up. They’d have stopped me so they wouldn’t have to question themselves, so they wouldn’t have to risk waking up from their fevered dreams.
So I let them sleep. I’m the one-eyed man. I am their King. But they can’t even see me.