Back in The Days before Time Began – when some things were well known but other things were as of yet still unknown (and would probably remain so) – we took a vote, myself and the other Elder Gods, as to whether there should be such a thing as existence or not. We voted overwhelmingly against it of course, being of one mind in this regard, but later on we lost our resolve. We went back on ourselves, we went back on our original decision and voted to allow it as a trial run, just to see how it worked out. That’s what we said to ourselves anyway, in a foolish attempt to prove to ourselves that we are being prudent and responsible and so on. Once we had voted it in however we were stuck with it – we couldn’t get rid of it again. We’d made our bed and we were brutally compelled to lie in it. The problem was that once we had learned the filthy habit of existing we couldn’t then – at that late stage (after the event, as it were) – turn around and unlearn it. That’s a story you’ve probably heard before, I’d say! I’m sure there are all sorts of examples of this sort of thing – one-way valves that we pass glibly through, talking incessantly as we do so, speaking hideous nonsense as we do so, getting carried away with the heady intoxication of the lies that we ourselves were telling (being deeply enamoured, as we were, with whatever flavour of bullshit it was that happened to be trending at the time) only to discover – very shortly afterwards – that we had lost everything that had actually been any good in our lives. We had become helpless addicts, addicted to existence in all its forms and yet despising it at the same time. Very much despising it. ‘Suppose you opted for a certain type of existence,” I challenged the other members of the Council, “and you were the lowest of the low, devoid of even the slightest trace of self-respect, having lost even the little bit of good that you used to have back in the early days, before the rot set in, would you curse time for playing you false?” My challenge rang out with great clarity in the Sacred Hall of the Ancient Proto-Gods, but no one took any notice. No one paid any heed to me. I was well known in those days for my empty histrionics – I was a Failed God, an experiment gone wrong. I had made some wrong decisions and I was too stubborn to admit it. I was too cowardly to admit it – I was full of fear but I wouldn’t own up to it.
