7
b2plane
178d

By working for the matrix all of my biggest propositions worries concerns and probabilities are now being confirmed. Giving 1/3 of your life every day to the matrix, gets you home so exhausted and drained that you need to sleep or rest on couch for 2/3 of your life and before you know it it's time for bed to repeat all of it again by sleeping for 3/3 of ur life. And the matrix cycle repeats till death. You are basically a slave robot who works, rests from exhaustion and then sleeps so you could repeat the whole cycle tomorrow.

This is my biggest fear. This is my worse fucking living nightmare. How can people tolerate this? I mean sure if i was paid a million dollars a year I could tolerate it. But this is bearly bearable. I have to escape this box

Comments
  • 4
    Unionize. It's a class war and they're stealing our literal lives. It's time to bring the fight back to them.
  • 0
    Cope.
  • 2
    You haven't even entered the box yet!
  • 0
    Oh shut up. Please. Shut up already.
  • 0
    @jestdotty i rather not
  • 2
    @SidTheITGuy ur a child and ur probably jobless so you'll never understand the pain and suffering of working for the matrix
  • 1
    @b2plane im jobless... bruh, I literally got 4 clients and 1 full time job at the moment. I'm the farthest thing from being jobless.

    You merely adapted the matrix, I was born in it. I moulded the matrix to my liking.
  • 1
    The box you are in is a quantum box. You are schrodinger's cat and you are both alive and dead until you pay the hefty observers fee whereupon you open the box to discover that the question was all wrong, because the answer to whether you are alive or dead was always the wrong answer.

    The real answer is that the answer doesnt matter at all. Because as long as you are inside the box, even if you're alive, eventually you'll want to be dead, or might as well be.

    Because the truth is, the label on the box says "hell." You're in hell, you have been this whole time, and like all hell's, you will go through brief respites where you forget you are in hell before sliding back into wonderland trying to figure out what is wrong with you.

    And then you will realize it's not you that's the problem, and you spent years doing the humble thing of assuming it *was* you--and you will realize it's the world that is the problem.

    There is no spoon.

    The spoon was stolen.
    Worse. it never existed at all.
  • 2
    Guillotines solve this.
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