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| Generated by Google Workspace Labs text-to-image Duet AI software |
I’m sorry about bummin’ you all out yesterday. I’ve just been thinking a lot
about my past, and my life. Why don’t I tell you a little bit about it? ‘Kay?
You can read it or not. Like Superman, I grew up in Kansas. And like Superman,
I had superpowers. But unlike Superman, these powers weren’t useful for flying
around, rescuing people. They gave me glimpses into other worlds, which
allowed me to write their stories down, and pass them off as fiction. I
eventually realized that some of these stories were taking place in a universe
that was located inside of my very soul. You see, that’s what all inhabited
universes are; the complex development of a person’s soul, who you might call
a god. We are all gods with godlings, and all godlings are gods. It’s godlings
all the way down. No one knows where it ends, and no one knows where it
begins. Some may want to answer such profound philosophical questions, but I
am not one of them, because it would not change the way I live my life, which
has always been a little less than the best I can. I’m not what you would call
responsible or productive. I’ve not written any stories for a long time,
because that’s not me anymore. I no longer have access to those worlds. If I
did, I would be able to find Cricket and Claire. My alternate self could. He
probably knows exactly where they are, and I bet he’s telling their continued
story without me. He used to be able to send me messages, which we called
updates, but your boring planet locks all those out. My own story is still
getting out to him, but I’m lost. Alone. With all of you.
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