I’ve been self-canceled or…

A metacognitive metapolitical hot take on whatever and then some

I don’t know about this. I’ve been self-canceled for quite a long while now. Self-canceled? Yup. I read the room. I mostly shut up. Turns out, no emperor appreciates having their nudity pointed out. And, unapologetically, there’s just some poison pills I can’t swallow. Other people have theirs. I have mine. I’ve not yet been persuaded that I may not have the same autonomy of poison-pill choosing.

Some of those may appear trifles with semantics, but damn. If one has read any of my previous navel gazings, one might know I’m the worst kind of skeptic, of the Pyrrhonian variety. I don’t think we have a club, and if we did I doubt I’d join it. … I’ll see myself out now.

Re-posting with a minor update

I’ll wax wordy about more later, but for the moment I thought this deserved a re-post if only because things are better. That, and I’d omitted a significant bit of the title which, while I hope the opener served its purpose (and may do so again), the underlying purpose was a slice o’ life from an existential crisis sort of perspective. I know my style isn’t everyone’s cup o’ tea, and I’m okay with that. As I read this now with a mere four months between me and it, I quite like it. This is maybe as authentic as I can be. The voice rings true. In places it’s a minefield of conclusions ripe for leaping, but I’m okay with that because the leaps would be innocent error. Mostly, though, I’m happy with the outcome. Spoiler alert: keep on going. Go for the going of it, and customize it to your heart’s content.

PSA: Suicide Prevention Awareness & Trigger Warning, or This Slice o’ Life Ain’t for Everyone