The Button (A Brief Apology)

There’s a lot that I’ve done wrong, but I think my one big regret, amongst all others, is destroying space and time as we currently know it. Bear in mind, this hasn’t taken place yet… well, kind of now, but previously, and soon, not now though. It’s complicated.

Either way, I was moping about in a general haze amongst a very stark yet somewhat intriguing empty bit of space. There was a distortion of self that took place, had to go and shift between multiple planes of being to comprehend what I was seeing and shit. One of the me’s outside inside myself found a room with a button.

The button seemed innocent enough, but there was a really fucking long manual next to it. So again I had to fracture my perception of being, just to speed up the process. I mean, forever is a really long time, but with time a malleable thing, I don’t have much time. You get really busy when you’re nothing and nowhere.

Some of the warnings didn’t even make much sense, and yet, they were oddly personal and understanding. One section detailed how to properly maintain chlorine levels in a swimming pool of average size, as well as consoling me on previous blunders in regards to my failed relationships. Another section spent a lot of time talking about concept albums, and how to build a coal fire oven.

In regards to the button? I couldn’t find a damn thing. There was a button, and there was an extensive document on everything I had done, will do, and would soon regret. That’s when I got an idea! If I pushed the button, then it would be a part of the section on things that I did. That didn’t make sense though, as clearly I was interested in this button, so NOT pushing it would obviously have been covered already in the section of things I held with deep regret.

Nine thousand me’s read this giant document four thousand times, and each time, not a goddamn word on the button. Many things changed in terms of intention and regret, but there was NEVER anything about the button.

There were odd things in the times before rooms like this started to spread like the Black Death. A plague of empty ideas, a parade of empty meaning and questionless answers. If they were not everywhere, then every me just so happened to find them all. Each one, something inside, just to mock how empty everything else was.

In one of them? A Pepsi machine. Another one? A coat rack covered in tin foil. The button was the only one that presented a paradox to any of me.

So… maybe I should explain, for the sake of myself back then, and me currently, and I think there’s a lot of me soon after this that’s a little fuzzy as well. I am going to push the button. You see, one part of my brain will eventually get enough focus to understand that focus was the problem. With my attention drawn to the button, I was in a perpetual state of pushing it, and not pushing it. It never became a part of my future, nor was it ever something I would regret not doing.

So for about two seconds… well, it was either two seconds, or three hundred and fifty seven years, but that’s not the point. For a very small fraction of time, I congealed, and I pushed the fucking button. Me as a singular… me as a mistake.

You see, I never really actually took time to think about what the button may or may not do. I was mostly just confused as to why nothing in the manual of instructions that was my life pointed to what the button did. When I finally separated again, and looked for what it did, the page said only this:

“This button was made by something far greater than you, it is a failsafe. Under no circumstance, should you even consider pushing the button. But seeing as you did anyways, you should be well aware that you just hit the reset button on existence, now set to be determined at a later date after this signal has been process to review and inquiry.”

I’m not sure if it does that or not, but I’m going to assume it does, because the endless pages of how I expanded into forever suddenly started going haywire. Where once a chapter detailed my miserable time trying to impress an older woman, now it only said “I was dinosaurs, please have fun with omelets.”

It broke down a lot more, and eventually lost even its tone of nonsense, and just became a blank book that somehow evoked only feeling and this strange sense of loss and confusion.

Whatever was left, wasn’t dedicated to me, but rather what I had to live within. Thankfully, that wasn’t filed under regret. The world I had to inhabit previous to this was a mess, and the people that flooded it were very troublesome. I don’t think the universe will miss them, or me. But again, it won’t even remember us as even that remote spec, because we will never be, never were. It is at this point that I am wondering how long the process will take, because I’ve expanded myself into an infinite, but once I reach that far I can’t see of myself, for myself, so gauging the time span on when this will all happen, (even though it already has happened) is quite tricky. That, and I’m still more interested in how this manual keeps giving me different meanings and translations on what the button does.

End result is the same, but the process to create that same result is different every time.

Oh, look… genesis, exodus, rebirth, and death… they’re all shaking hands. I’m glad something good came from all of this. As for the rest of you? Well… my bad.


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