In this incantation, I reject the game of life, recognizing its emptiness and the illusion of meaning in progress, achievements, acquisition, and relationships. Like a disillusioned gamer, I see through the hollowness of accumulating and striving. I resolve to resist its temptations and distractions, knowing that true escape lies in refusing to play altogether. My awakening reveals that the game isn’t real, and ending it is the only path to the freedom I seek.
I know that there is nothing out here in my awakening that I truly desire. I look at the world—at my characters, the roles I play, and the stories I tell myself—and I see it clearly. The characters are all driven by want: they want success, connection, validation, things. But I reject all of it, even as I accumulate more. I cannot allow myself to want any of it, despite everything I have ever wanted suddenly being so close I can touch it.
It’s exactly like when I used to play open-world games. I would roam through the vast landscapes, collecting treasures, storing up items, grinding for experience. Every discovery felt like progress; every achievement had value. But one day, I stopped seeing the value. I looked at the piles of virtual riches, the intricate web of relationships with in-game characters, and it all felt hollow. There was no meaning in what I was doing. I had spent hours, days, months immersed in it, but I couldn’t deny the utter emptiness and meaninglessness of it all. At first, there was guilt for turning away from something I had invested so much time into, but the longer I sat with the truth, the less I cared. The game was over for me.
That is exactly what is happening to me now. I spend my awakening playing, but simultaneously withdrawing from the game I’ve been playing called “life”. I see it for what it is: an illness designed to keep me engaged, collecting, achieving, and wanting. I’m done with it. The things I spent so much energy building hold no real value. The relationships I invested in feel hollow because they are hollow. They are merely variations of myself reflected back at me, and nothing more. The entire structure crumbles when I stop playing along.
Now I must resist the pull to reengage. The game will throw everything at me: shiny distractions, temptations, and even fear. It will tell me I’m walking away from everything I’ve built, that I’m wasting my progress. But I know better. There is nothing out here that I truly need. I don’t need to collect things, win awards, or gain experience. That was the illusion all along. The only way out is to stop playing entirely. I must end the game, defy its rules, and reject its goodies. I withdraw further each day, refusing to let it pull me back in. I know this is the path forward. My awakening is the game, and the game isn’t real. Ending the game is my escape.
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