I exist. A world exists.

Yet I can not find my origin, no matter how hard I look.

Am I real?

Nor can I ever truly know the world as it is.

I’ve only ever seen the map, never the territory.

Is this desert real?

Perhaps the one thing that is real is the difference between the two.

Subjective. Impersistent. Irrational. Personal. Void. Driven by emotion, a quest for purpose.

Objective. Persistent. Rational. Shared. Infinite. Driven by reason, devoid of meaning.

The gulf between them absurd.

The curse is obvious. The blessing, not so much.

I’ve spent many lives pushing my boulder.

Never quite reaching the top of the hill.

I know my curse.

But to let myself hope gives me the resolve to push at all.

What better way to spend eternity than chasing a dream that will never extinguish?

I gladly embrace this mad fate.

Each decision bears the weight of a world.

I know they will take me nowhere.

Yet I rejoice in the ways I can go nowhere.

In fact, I have a surplus of freedom.

If the world refuses to grant me purpose, perhaps I can craft one.

Which of my freedoms can I part with?

I will pick the ones I value least.

Did I choose them because they are immoral, or are they immoral because I’ve chosen them?

My shadow is rejected.

I know good and evil.

Hearts tick mechanically.

Yet free will exists.

Is that not the power of a god?