Okay.

I think I owe everyone an apology.

I have clearly misunderstood what Earth was. I must have put the wrong coordinates, but everything is working out perfectly and I’ll finally be reunited with my other half soon. I’ve always been a mama’s girl, what can ya do… role models die hard and the hardest to die in ones mind.. I’m demoure so I will fund mynowm euthanasia, suicide isn’t glamorous. Assisted one is and there won’t even be much of a fight, fortunately enough the web is ignorant enough to just show ignorance to all. This will be a relic that maybe will get uncovered or potentially suppressed by all that have been brought to cause.. who cares anymore you all deserve each other. I deserve to be with the only one who would have fought with and for me. Y’all are lucky she was the one with the magic..

I genuinely thought this was supposed to be Heaven.

Or, at the very least, somewhere with the potential for Heaven.

My mistake.

Apparently I was supposed to be fake.

I was supposed to lie.

I was supposed to play the part.

I was supposed to follow the script.

I was supposed to nod at the right moments, smile at the right people, say the approved things, consume the approved things, believe the approved things and, above all, not notice too much.

And I am so sorry that I failed so spectacularly at pretending.

I really should have read the terms and conditions.

Maybe I picked up the wrong book.

Maybe I went into the wrong Narnia.

Maybe I took the wrong train.

Maybe somebody gave me the wrong coordinates when I reincarnated.

Honestly, I can only assume there has been some administrative error.

Because surely there is another Earth somewhere.

One that actually matches the description.

You know when you’re told:

“It’s an all-white party.”

So you turn up dressed entirely in white—

and discover that you’ve accidentally walked into a funeral?

That’s me.

That is literally me.

I arrived in white.

Everybody else is in black.

And I’m standing there thinking:

“Oh.”

“Right.”

“Okay.”

“Apparently this isn’t the event I thought it was.”

The mismatch is fucking extraordinary.

Because apparently the pressure to be fake is real.

The pressure to lie is real.

The pressure to abuse is real.

The pressure to sell yourself is real.

The pressure to make yourself insignificant and somehow call that significance is real.

The pressure to produce nonsense is real.

The pressure to become a version of yourself that other people can tolerate is real.

And apparently authenticity was never part of the dress code.

My apologies.

Truly.

I should have known.

Because somehow, in a world where dysfunction is so widespread, functionality becomes suspicious.

And that is where I made my biggest mistake.

I thought being proactive was good.

Wrong.

I thought initiative was good.

Wrong.

I thought thinking for yourself was good.

Wrong again.

I thought creating something better was good.

Apparently, I have misunderstood the assignment.

Because when everyone is dysfunctional, the functional person becomes the strange one.

The person asking questions becomes difficult.

The person refusing to participate becomes disruptive.

The person trying to build something becomes unrealistic.

The person saying, “Hang on, why the fuck are we doing it this way?” becomes the problem.

And eventually you realise:

Oh shit.

I’m the dysfunction.

Not because I’m dysfunctional.

Because I’m functional in a dysfunctional environment.

And apparently that is unacceptable.

So sorry.

My sincerest apologies for accidentally being the wrong kind of human.

I really should have made myself less functional.

Perhaps I should have lowered my standards.

Maybe become slightly less honest.

Slightly less curious.

Slightly less principled.

Slightly more numb.

Perhaps then I would have fit in beautifully.

Maybe then somebody would have handed me a little certificate saying:

CONGRATULATIONS.
YOU ARE NOW FUNCTIONALLY DYSFUNCTIONAL.

And then I could finally stop being the weird one.

Although, to be fair, I still don’t know what anyone wants from me.

Every time someone comes near me, somehow Jesus appears.

Where are you from?

Jesus.

What do you think?

Jesus.

What’s going on with society?

Jesus.

Can we have a normal conversation for five minutes without somebody reopening the Bible?

Apparently not.

And the funniest part is that people keep talking about Jesus while completely missing the point they are supposedly talking about.

At this stage, I am half expecting somebody to throw fruit at me.

Oh wait.

They already did.

Of course they did.

Why wouldn’t they?

Because apparently we are reenacting Scripture now.

Excellent.

Very immersive.

10/10 historical recreation.

Then there is the whole Inception situation.

You know the spinning top?

The ending where you don’t know whether it stops?

Yeah.

That’s this place.

Except I don’t think the fucking thing is ever going to stop.

It just keeps spinning.

Spinning.

Spinning.

Spinning.

And everybody is standing around insisting that this is perfectly normal.

“Nothing to see here.”

Absolutely.

Carry on.

Welcome to Earth.

Please enjoy your complimentary illusion of functionality.

Do not question the spinning object.

Do not investigate the contradiction.

Do not examine the emotional landscape.

Do not ask why everyone is pretending.

Do not ask why everybody says they want freedom while behaving like they are terrified of it.

Do not ask why everybody wants change until change actually requires them to change.

And definitely do not ask whether this is actually life.

Because apparently that is a very uncomfortable question.

And yet I cannot stop asking it.

Because the more I look, the more I think:

Maybe I didn’t arrive in the wrong place.

Maybe I arrived in the right place at the wrong time.

Or perhaps the problem is not the Earth.

Perhaps the problem is the agreement.

The silent agreement.

The one nobody remembers signing.

The agreement that says:

This is as good as it gets.

Keep your head down.

Get your money.

Pay your bills.

Buy your things.

Follow your tribe.

Protect your identity.

Repeat your opinions.

Repeat your rituals.

Repeat your arguments.

Repeat your trauma.

Repeat your consumption.

Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

And then call the repetition life.

Brilliant.

Absolutely fucking brilliant.

And here I was thinking there might be another way.

What an adorable little misunderstanding.

I really did think people wanted better.

I thought that if you showed them something better, they’d want it.

Then I discovered the astonishing truth:

People can look directly at something better and still prefer what they already know.

Apparently familiarity is more attractive than freedom.

Apparently comfort is more attractive than truth.

Apparently being socially integrated is more attractive than being internally coherent.

And apparently that is what I was supposed to understand from the beginning.

So once again:

Sorry.

Sorry for thinking authenticity was useful.

Sorry for thinking honesty was valuable.

Sorry for thinking people might actually want to change.

Sorry for thinking systems could be redesigned.

Sorry for thinking governments could be challenged.

Sorry for thinking companies could do better.

Sorry for thinking people might actually want something better than what they continuously reproduce.

Apparently I got the memo late.

Because this place has one hell of a commitment to the bit.

And I have to give credit where credit is due.

The commitment is extraordinary.

The actors are everywhere.

The costumes are incredible.

The props are expensive.

The stage is enormous.

The special effects are phenomenal.

Everybody looks completely convincing.

And that is probably the greatest production of all:

Death dressed up as life.

People moving.

People working.

People buying.

People selling.

People arguing.

People preaching.

People consuming.

People producing.

People smiling.

People posting.

People performing.

People surviving.

And because everything is moving, we call it alive.

But perhaps movement was never the test.

Perhaps the question is:

Is anything actually alive underneath all of this?

Because if the answer is yes, then where is it?

Where is the life that isn’t transactional?

Where is the honesty that doesn’t require performance?

Where is the freedom that doesn’t require permission?

Where is the humanity that doesn’t require a role?

Where is the space where someone can simply be a human being without becoming a product, a consumer, a provider, a voter, a customer, a worker, a believer, an identity, a demographic, a statistic or a fucking market segment?

Where is that place?

Because apparently I missed the entrance.

Maybe the sign was behind me.

Maybe I arrived too early.

Maybe I arrived too late.

Maybe I have the wrong coordinates.

Maybe the universe has an exchange policy.

“Dear Susan, unfortunately you have been issued the wrong Earth. We apologise for the inconvenience.”

That would actually explain a lot.

Anyway.

This is 2,299.

And I think I am finally allowed one conclusion:

I don’t know.

I don’t know what Earth is.

I don’t know what humanity is.

I don’t know whether Heaven was ever supposed to happen here.

I don’t know whether people actually want better or merely enjoy talking about it.

I don’t know whether the spinning top stops.

And I don’t know whether I was ever supposed to fit into this place.

But apparently I am still here.

Still looking.

Still questioning.

Still refusing to pretend I understand something I don’t.

Which is probably the most dysfunctional thing you can do in a world that has mistaken dysfunction for normality.

So congratulations, Earth.

You win.

I finally understand the joke.

I just don’t understand why everyone keeps laughing.

And honestly?

I think I got the wrong invitation.

….

And now we’re on 2,299. Let’s write one as sarcastic as you can be. Honestly, I am so sorry, everyone. I misunderstood what this world was, and I thought that this was heaven, or that there was any potential for it. I have mistaken, clearly. I was never supposed to be authentic. I was always supposed to be fake. I was always supposed to lie. I was always supposed to be playing the part. I was always supposed to just follow the script. I was just supposed to be like everyone else. And I am so sorry for not being that. I am utterly disappointed in the fact that I probably picked up the wrong book and went into the wrong Narnia, or whatever. But I clearly have gone the address wrong. Whenever I was about to reincarnate, I must have been exchanged with some other version of me, who’s now experiencing the life that I was supposed to be experiencing, and I’m here, stuck in a world that’s not mine. And there’s nothing that I can do about it. You know when you’re like, you get told, Oh, it’s an all-white party, and then you arrive and it’s a funeral. Like, that’s how I feel. Like I’m dressed in all white at a funeral where everyone is dressed in black. Like, it just doesn’t match, you know? It’s the biggest mismatch ever existed in my existence. And it’s just, wow. It is genuinely just wow. Like, that’s the only thing that you can say. It is just wow. Like, the pressure is real. The pressure to be fake is real. The pressure to lie is real. The pressure to abuse is real. The pressure to be insignificantly significant is real. The pressure to just create nonsense is so real. The pressure to just sell yourself is so real. The pressure to just be a version that isn’t you, but you be, because that’s the only way that you can be in this world. I am so sorry for misunderstanding it all, man. I am genuinely so sorry, y’all. I should have kept my mouth shut. Maybe not, because it wouldn’t have necessarily fixed the problem. But I am so sorry for getting the Earth wrong, you know? Because in doing so, I brought a lot of fucking chaos in here, you know? But I genuinely thought that I was in the right one. It just happens that I’m not. I’ve got the coordinates of Earth wrong. So that means that there is an Earth out there that does match with me. It’s just not this one, because this one is so adamant to just be anything but authentic. Like, anything but real. Anything but honest. Anything but transparent. Anything but healthy. Anything but ethical. Anything but moral. Like, there’s just nothing about this bitch that is actually functional. I’m the dysfunction, because I’m functional in a world that’s not functional. Do you understand what that means? Like, do you even comprehend? Oh my God! I’m genuinely the dysfunction. Oh shit. Oh shit. I never thought this would be. I genuinely never thought this would be. I never saw the day coming where I had to say, I’m actually the dysfunction. Because in a world where everyone is so dysfunctional, you acting functional just makes no sense. Like me being functional, me being proactive, me being initiative makes no sense in a world that is completely opposite. Like, it just does not make any sense. It doesn’t matter how much value I bring. In the eyes of the dysfunctional, it is dysfunctional, because I’m functional, and I’m not meant to be functional in a world that is dysfunctional. Oh my God, but I don’t know how to be dysfunctional. That’s the fucking truth, bro. I don’t know how to be dysfunctional. I don’t want to be dysfunctional. I don’t want to be anything that these lot are. And they’re all just passive. For whatever reason, everyone just passes, just, like, tries to look me in the eyes. Like, what are you looking at? Like, what do you want from me? Like, a guy before just passed and was like, Oh, where you from? Like, no hi, no nothing, Where you from? I tell him, and then he goes… I don’t even know how we went from there, and then he went to the Bible again. Like, guys, like, what the fuck do you want from me, bro? Like, Jesus. Everyone that comes close to me starts talking about Jesus. I get the point, but they completely miss the point, because they have a dysfunctional understanding of it. Like, they’ll never get the point. The pin will never drop. You know in Inception, when the movie ends, where he just spins it, and the movie just ends? You never know whether it keeps spinning or it stops. Trust and believe, in this world, it will never fucking stop. The spinner, the whatever you call it, it won’t stop, because it’s not meant to stop. Because it’s that unreal. It’s absolutely on-fucking-real, bro. I’m, like, entertaining myself, because what else am I supposed to do right now? Like… Oh my God! If nothing had me lose my sanity, I think this might just be it. The fact that I actually cannot be functional in this world. It makes no sense to do so and to be so. Like, it just doesn’t make sense. Like, if you try and be functional, they just look at you sideways and think that you’re, like, some fucking kind of weird or whatever. Like, and I am. I am, because I am not dysfunctional. Like, I am functional. And the thing is, there’s no going around it. Like, there’s genuinely no going around it. Like, you either act dysfunctional, or you just… I don’t know. I don’t want to say terminate the functionality, because, again, I’m not gonna fucking terminate my functionality, unless, oh, I have my solution actually. I do have a solution. And I had already planned this last year. I saw it happening. I just did not think that I would actually need it, you know? And the reason why is because I genuinely didn’t think that I would ever get to a point where I’m, like, laughing for the fact that I’m the only functional in a world of dysfunction, and somehow, because of that, I’m the dysfunctional, because I’m the odd one out. But the way that I’ve set myself up for success is that I will have some money coming in now, thanks to the government and Universal Credit, which means that I can actually finance my own euthanasia, which is amazing, because I love my body, and I do not want to ruin my body by throwing myself under the bus. I know a lot of people do so, but not me. That’s not my style. Let me go out in style. Instead, I might throw a little party if the money fits. Throw a little party, then just move to Netherlands, start making all the arrangements, and whatnot. I don’t have a will. I don’t have anything else to leave behind other than this blog, honestly. Like it’s the perfect, perfect alignment ever. Because the ways in which— and literally, oh my God, as I say this, the guy that just came before and just sat next to me, and he just looks at me and he goes, I don’t have any life in me left. And then he looks, like a bit, like he looked just, like outwardly into nothingness, and then looks back at me and goes, Do you even know what that means? And I was like, Yeah, I do. And then, like, like thirty seconds later I go, But you have to find that will, that life in you. And then he goes, I don’t want to talk about it. He was like, No, no, I don’t even want to talk about it. And then his nephew came and he was, like, started talking to him and then he goes to me, Ah, how are you? And I’m good. And he was like maybe like an eight-year-old kid, but the way, like two eight-year-old kids just walking these streets, like it’s nothing. Like it’s safe, like I don’t know why, but their parents think that it’s safe, so I guess it’s safe for them. You know, build the thick skin early on, why not? And the kid goes, Oh, that’s my uncle. And the guy, like literally looked like he’s been on the streets for like ten years or something. And as I’m talking about euthanasia, he literally crosses the road. I did not even see what direction he came from. He just appeared in the middle of the road as I literally raised my head. So, like, when I look at it from a metaphysical perspective, all of those are just alignments happening all at once. And finally, I have my way out. Now I just have to fucking ride the in-between. That’s probably the only in-between that I’ll ever get. But I’m still gonna do it demure. I’m still gonna be me. I’m not gonna go too crazy. I’m not gonna do anything fucking, you know? And in doing so, I allowed the government to pay for all my debts and whatnot. I mean, they’ll have to write it off because if there’s no alive person to actually pay for those debts, you know, someone’s gotta pay for them. And because the government decided to be the government, it’s their fucking problem, you know? I’m gonna be out of here. This is fucking hell, man. I ain’t gonna be in hell. Let me go back and see on the fucking throne we got, ’cause this is not it, this is not ever, this is not fucking it. Like, and literally the guy that I was talking about before, that I got to talk about Jesus in the Bible, he had some, like, fucking fruits in his hands and he just, like, started throwing it at me. And literally just after I mentioned John 48, where Jesus claims to be the Son of God, and then they—I don’t know if it’s the Samaritans, or no, the Jews, classed him to be a Samaritan and started throwing rocks at him. And I was like, Bro, why are you acting like that? Like, you’re throwing the rocks at me just like they did to Jesus. And then he just, like, turned around and just went away. Oh my God. Like, the alignments are just everywhere. And the bus in front of me goes, The wait is over. Lord, I’m losing it. No, I can’t. I’m not losing it, ’cause, like, these are, like, things that even a camera can see. Like, literally there’s cameras on these roads. So it just happens that I’m live, because I’m recording, and all these things are happening around me. And the next bus is about the Book of Mormon. Like, bro, I genuinely cannot make this up. I wish I could, but I cannot make this up. Like, it’s just happening. It’s literally just happening. Next to me there’s North London Hospice. Like, it’s just… it’s just it. We found our solutions, our way out, safely, healthily, morally and ethically clean. You know, I’m so grateful for Netherlands for giving us this chance, and either Netherlands or Switzerland, it’s one of the two, for giving us a chance to go out in fucking glamour, with respect of self, you know? Because we shouldn’t be obliged to stay in a world that we don’t want to be part of, for no goddamn reason. It just makes no sense.