Floccinaucinihilipilification

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"You're shallow.

You're indistinguishable.

What happens when I compare you to you, or you?

What happens when I replace you with you, or you?

Nothing is the motto of life.

And repetitiveness is to be embraced.

You wonder, and wonder, and wonder.

But conclusions hold the same value as do forgotten dreams.

And you argue, and argue, and argue.

But the topic warps as time does.

What do you think?"

The television stopped flashing words, waiting for the viewer to respond. The viewer, a shirtless boy in a rough shape lying on his couch, barely awake, keeps quiet. It's an advertisement video, so who cares? Yet, the television continues.

"Let me speak for you.

I'm deep.

I'm recognizable.

I'm what's above average human comprehension.

I'm above the repetitiveness of the average life.

But what's the above you're ascending to?

You look up.

What you see is below.

Am I right?"

The boy scoffs. He leans towards his coffee table, where the remote lays. He picks it up, points it at the television, and clicks the power button. However, instead of the television turning off, it turns on. Static yells and blinds the surprised boy, who quickly turns the television off, throwing the remote back on the coffee table. He rubs his face as he's getting up from his couch, limping through the sea of empty beer bottles that had long swallowed his living room. He stumbles towards a hallway, leading to other rooms in his apartment. He keeps turning the right corner, but never arrives anywhere. The hallway is infinite, and the air is heavy. His steps are shallow, and the walls are indistinguishable.

The boy keeps going, being fond of the oddities around his living place.

After what felt like ages, the boy finds himself in his kitchen. He opens his fridge and takes the only beer left. It was reserved for a friend. But how little that matters to the boy, who keeps one goal in mind.

"You want to keep suppressing it.

The laws of pressure disagree.

You're mastering the art of selective attention.

But look where you are, back at the start.

There's no uniqueness or difference.

As the chicken runs counterclockwise.

Headless or not, it keeps running.

Not knowing others join, creating individual circles.

You light a match and feed the farm to the flames.

The chickens could run or fly, but they argue.

What do you think?"

The boy's watching the television again, with one more empty beer bottle lost in the sea. He's unphased by the odd advertisement video, now waiting for it to simply end. Yet, the television continues.

"To think of a unique idea is to disobey the rule of life.

Life is the motto of a circling, dying snake.