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We all like to think our story is a different story, a better story. We all like to think we’re unlike everyone else, very special and unique. We all like to think we will be the first people to do the unprecedented and accomplish the impossible. We all like to think these things because we can’t survive unless we have hopes.

But I’m writing to you to tell you, stop thinking these things. All stories are sad stories. Everyone is like everyone. We all do the same things.

Of course our personalities are different and we look different and that’s because who we are is diversity. But when it comes down to what we are, it is just the same thing. We’re all dim wit geniuses with mortal bodies and complex brains. Simply, humans.

Go on, rage on about how the soul matters more than the body and how Einstein is not a dim wit but at a certain moment we are all equal and exactly the same thing.

When you’re on a deserted island you will kill Simon. When you’re lost at sea for months you will curse your God. When you’re trapped you will do what everyone else does, you will do anything to live, you will kill, curse, and even become a cannibal for some time because you don’t care what the world says or thinks about how you survived, you just have to survive.

But you don’t know that. Because you’re not deserted on an island and you’re not lost at sea for months and you’re not trapped and poor you, you value personal experience as the sole source of true knowledge that you will not believe me.

But I’ll tell you something else: I don’t want you to believe me. I don’t even want you to think about this letter because you don’t need to busy yourself with these terrible notions. You’re here to only live on, carelessly, on about your desires and aspirations, achievements and relationships, then you die. So it’s fine to dump this letter into the closest waste basket, absolutely fine.