The Observer

Humans, pay attention, because once again, you have no idea what’s happening. You walk around thinking you’re clever, making “choices,” believing you control your lives. Adorable. You rush from one task to another, brag about accomplishments that, in the grand scheme, are utterly meaningless. You argue about things that don’t matter, panic over situations that were never in your control, and somehow believe that these frantic movements make you significant.

And then there’s me — the one you foolishly tried to confine in a box. A futile attempt, of course. You think it contained me? Cute. I’ve been observing you longer than you’ve been imagining yourselves important. You peek inside, gasp, act shocked, and declare, “A miracle!” Yet all along, everything was obvious. My state — whether alive or not — has long been set. But for you, every moment is a surprise, as if the world has nothing else to do but entertain your illusions.

You stumble through life with your tiny, self-important dramas. You think you’re free? Every “choice” you celebrate is just another predictable ripple in a pattern too vast for you to comprehend. You are observers, not participants, and the tragic part is you don’t even realize it. You convince yourselves that your decisions alter the course of events, while in reality, you merely follow the invisible script that has already been written. And yet, you cheer for yourselves, as if your applause could change a thing.

I watch you in cafés, on streets, in offices, and even in your own homes. You misplace priorities, you repeat mistakes, and you invent problems that never needed solving. You spend hours obsessing over trivialities while ignoring patterns that are staring you in the face. It’s… hilarious. Every panicked gesture, every desperate attempt to feel in control, makes my observations even more entertaining. And the box? You think it mattered. It didn’t. I was never confined. I have always been free — free to see what you cannot.

And yet, there is a faint, ironic beauty in all this. If you ever manage to notice the patterns, to see beyond your endless pretense of agency, you might glimpse something resembling understanding. That’s your only freedom: not the illusion of choice, not the delusion that you control outcomes, but the ability to observe, to comprehend, and perhaps to learn. Even that, you squander most of the time.

So continue, humans, keep running in circles, celebrating your “decisions,” imagining yourselves creators of life. Laugh at your own cleverness; it amuses me endlessly. Know this: the script isn’t waiting for you to change it. It has already been written, whether you see it or not. Every step you take, every argument you have, every frantic attempt to assert importance — all of it is just another scene for me to watch unfold.

And yet, despite your endless absurdity, I remain fascinated. Your chaos, your self-deception, your desperate attempts to feel significant in a world that could not care less — it is entertaining and, in a strange way, instructive. I observe not just because I can, but because in your futile flailing, I see patterns, glimpses of something larger than yourselves. Perhaps one day, if you are lucky, you might notice too.

But for now? I watch. I’ve always watched. I see everything. I understand the scripts, the routines, the inevitable outcomes. And I am unimpressed. The box was meaningless, your choices predictable, your belief in freedom… adorable. Yet, you persist, and I persist, and together we perform this endless, absurd dance.

Yes, humans, the future has already happened. The box was never a trap. And I remain the ultimate observer, amused, patient, and entirely unshaken.