One day I’ll map out my footsteps through the last three years of my life and describe the metaphysical implications behind numbers.

But the thing is, there’s just as much for as against any purpose.

Choosing a belief is a maddeningly frustrating pursuit if, unlike almost every (fearful) human, you actually stop to truly think about it objectively.

And objective contemplation only leaves you with the truth that you cannot possibly be positive about any ‘truth’ in the least.

A total conviction in any one belief requires a certain element of faith, just as you’d put faith in your pilot to land in La Guardia airport on schedule instead of crashing you into Niagara Falls in an unpredictable fit of the crazies.

Consequentially, no matter who how much wisdom you absorb, you’re still essentially choosing your belief like you might choose an ice cream flavor- whatever suits your taste the most.
Because if you can’t ever truly filter objective truth purely, you may as well enjoy the parfait.

Though I have been experiencing some spooky revelations concerning the universal language of numbers.
But that’s the problem with marijuana. And mushrooms. And acid. And opiates. And nitrous. And a lack of social experiences in the defining moments of a home-schooled childhood.

So here’s where I raise my glass of straight vodka to objectivity, life’s unbiased tour guide and hope for the best.