Life is but a meme in the making.
On one of our many life rants, one of my best friends and I discussed the likelihood of our lives simply being a TV show. An interactive show whereby viewers took total control and decided our fate, voting only for actions that worked for entertainment purposes. Clicking ‘fuck her up,’ more often than ‘give her good news’. Though I’m certain that you manifest what you think and say, I can’t help but wonder if some people are just supposed to consistently have bad luck, you know, to balance everything out in the universe.
This week, I took three major Ls – yes, I’m well aware that it’s only Wednesday – and while I promised myself I wouldn’t divulge and tell the internet when I was at my lowest, I will take this as an opportunity to lay everything out and evaluate. If only for myself. To clarify, I’m not at my lowest, I’m not even a little bit close. But these three occurrences that happened so early on in the week, led me to a point where I had to sit and really think things through. Ordinarily, my initial reaction to bad news is to let it manifest and scream ‘woe is me,’ then quickly isolate myself from my peers. However, I did exactly the opposite this week. Sure, I cried in the staff bathroom… a lot, but following this, I did something that even I’m surprised by. I returned to my desk and wrote down a list of things I could do to solve this third – and I hoped – final problem. I was pragmatic and I suspect that the viewers who voted, ‘give her more bad news’ with their hard earned £3.50 per text, perhaps didn’t get the reaction they were hoping for. Faux TV stats aside, I’m now priding myself on making the grown-up decision… for once.
Much like the movie The Truman Show, I am a little curious as to whether or not this life is reality, or whether perhaps we’re in a simulated environment whereby everyone is in on the gig apart from me and possibly my bestie. Because at this point in my life, I’m sceptical of every living thing and you cannot convince me otherwise.
I often liken my life to Sims 4, and this is in part because I spent the majority of my 2018 simulating a life I’d rather have lived, but also because it makes so much sense that someone else would be in full control. Perhaps if I wasn’t the one pulling the strings, it would make more sense as to why I screamed, “SOUNDS LIKE HERPES,” before letting my colleague finish his story about someones severely busted lip. Perhaps it’d make more sense as to why I buy a plethora of eBay goodies using the PayPal method and then freak when it *actually* takes money from my account the following month. Perhaps it would make more sense as to why I walk down three flights of stairs to check the fridge for the fifth time, despite knowing that no, there still isn’t any food in there. To be frank, I wander aimlessly around all too often for my body to be controlled by my own brain, it just doesn’t quite add up.
But back to the point and my three major Ls. Rather than scream, ‘why is it always me(me),’ this year I’ve decided to take the high road and piss off the viewers of this terribly orchestrated TV show. So much so, that they tweet slurs about my character. I’m choosing to be so blindly positive that even my Sims will be worried for my wellbeing. When the Ls come, and it’s my understanding that they’ll continue on their upward trajectory, I’m going to continue to welcome them with open arms as though I’m hugging miniature grenades. Because if nothing else, I’m going to die on the very tip of my self depreciative hill with a giant smile on my face and screaming the words, “COME ON THEN, LETS FUCKIN ‘AVE IT”.
“May the Ls I continue to take, never take effect on my skin.”