When Ms. Cuttle turned to me, bringing that question along on little me, the simple drifting...
I knew then as I know now. That I wouldn't know.
That's what said, that I didn't know.
And she threw some assurance.
"You'll figure it out!"
Which felt grating.
I didn't need another lackadaisical afterthought seeing my head is filled with them. How could I possibly find something to do? How could she know?
But she didn't care. Went onto the next second grader.
"Firefighter!"
Typical.
"Doctor!"
Seriously?
"Secretary!"
Yes, that was the moment. The moment that locked in this timeline.
This timeline. A tomato crusted microwave heating up my jug of ramen sort of timeline.
A stare-out balcony between forgetful thought-trails sort of timeline.
I could've at least asked why she was a teacher, or why a secretary. I could've.
But deep down I knew I wouldn't get it. I just wouldn't. Looking at software update notifs I wonder which patch of humanity I lost. Which version I'm on.
[ ] Continue?
[ ] Exit
[x] Exit
you can't stop zog. you can't fight zog.
but you can somewhat resist some of their bullshit.
nhk is supposedly antizog, but ironically is prozog.