Giving everything a chance is a hopelessly romantic impossibility.
I want to know every part and mechanism devised to create the perfect story. I want to know every plot, every red herring, every moving dust particle that infests a bloated throbbing amalgamation where creativity goes to turn into pasteurized manure, a slushed self-sustaining mass.
I want to know every single V-tuber possible. Not every vlogger or let’s player that’ll be silly. But V-tubers I want to give them a fair shot.
I want to give every game a shot, a chance, and a fair shake. Even within a singular genre, besides the heavy hitters like Doom Eternal, hitters like ULTRAKILL, gems like Turbo Overkill, indie darlings like Cyber Hook. Untapped spurts like — (game with 2 steam reviews)
I want it all.
Time is a renewable daily resource, and there are incalculable branching ways to siphon it, the IV drip that licks the right parts of your brain. You can sink as much time as you want, and it’ll be precious cat-tonguing of a vast expansive expanding extraneous continental galactic ocean that amplifies and yawns exponentially.
Yes, you could have loved it. Yes, some you would have loved it. Yes, it is a shame that you’ll never read the perfect book.
That’s just how it is. You’ll never know everything. You’ll never even paw at the frozen-over tundra that is that iceberg. You have to pick between obsessing over shovelling water out of a gushing abyss or stopping that futile effort.
One leads to nothing else to show and no accomplishment. The other gives up perfection, total comprehension, and autonomy; In exchange for control over your life.
Acknowledging futility isn’t giving up. That goes to something possible that you end up not pursuing. If it isn’t possible, it isn’t giving up.
