Infinite Monkeys, Infinite Typewriters

You lose the ability to dissociate the world wide web from the world of flesh and blood. You're lost in theories of multi-universes, of infinite monkeys on infinite typewriters, of flat earths and fake landings and all-seeing eyes and all that good stuff.

Your world becomes a web browser, with open tab upon open tab within open tab.

Your mother is concerned about how you'll cope out there in the real world.

Out there in the real world, your teachers tell you truths. Van Gogh cut his ear off, artists are crazy. Don't worry about student debt, it'll be fine. Don't ever start a sentence with 'But'. But you can do anything you want to do, be anything you want to be.

They play alphabetti spaghetti games with your medical records. They put a label on you, nice and convenient, it'll help you get better. ADD. ADHD. FAS. ASD. PTSD. OCD. All that good stuff.

You get a job out there in the real world, you get sacked, you get another job. It pays the bills. You just live for the weekend. Work to live, live to work, what's the difference? Better to tow the company line. You're an asset - their asset. Could be worse - there are sweatshops in China and this ain't one of them. You can travel when you retire in 55 years. You can see the world on google maps anyway.

It's fine.

There are other yous in other universes.

Other yous, living the dream. Living clean. Self actualising on a daily basis. Fighting off the supermodels and autograph selfie hunters. Kicking arse and taking names. Getting the girl. Getting the boy. Lifting the trophies and collecting the medals. Changing the world for the better. Going down in history. The big 'I Am'.

All that good stuff