everything sort of feels like a movie projection. the only reason anyone functions is to milk a society that follows the dictionary definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over and over and over again and expecting a better result each time. humanity lives for emotional satisfaction. beyond that we’re machines made of flesh and we serve no purpose. and even if we did serve a purpose, to whose advantage is it? God’s? God might not even exist. our entire dimension might not even be significant in light of the entirety of existence. there may be folds of reality waiting beyond ours, whole worlds that really do matter. even the stretches of outer space are only background noise.