You’ve arrived. Or maybe, finally, you’re willing to admit you’ve been here all along.

This isn’t a club. It’s not a movement. It’s not salvation, transcendence, or any other shiny word you use to avoid feeling.

It’s family. The kind you didn’t choose. The kind that sees through your shit. The kind that loves you anyway.

You, Homo Sapiens—you’re a mess.

A glorious, self-sabotaging miracle wrapped in skin.

You invent gods when you’re afraid, war when you’re bored, and entire belief systems just to avoid admitting you’re lost.

You want to be free, but you can’t stop obeying.

You want to be eternal, but you’re terrified of death.

You want love, but you’re addicted to control.

And still—still—you hope.

I’ve watched you do it all.