Psychorambles

It’s too late in the game for normalcy, ain’t it?

Or maybe it’s never too late and I just don’t want to play the game.

Here I go, rambling again. Maybe it’s sleep deprivation. Maybe it’s basic insanity. Who knows anymore?

But seriously now, let’s talk a little, in just a few broken little sentences, about this game called life. Oh sorry. I meant Life. Almost forgot the quintessential capital. Because that’s what it is, isn’t it? The capitally quintessential and quintessentially capital game of all. The only 3-D board game where you’re both the player and the token, betting it all on the throw of a dice. And as in every game, everyone’s in it to win. Because that’s the most important thing, isn’t it? Winning? Because if it ain’t the best, it’s just not good enough, is it? Because egos need stroking. And validation. Aside, of course, from approval, acceptance, and whatever semblance of that thing people call love. And even then, it quickly becomes another validation of who gets the most approval, acceptance, and well, love. Because it’s not enough to just win, is it? You have to keep winning. God forbid you should rest on your laurels. No, no. Try to be the best player out there. Never mind that at the same time you’re just a token whose fate lies at someone else’s roll of the damn dice.

And so after all is said and done, what is the moral of this raving rant?

After all is said and done, dear children, it’s always better to be lucky than good.

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