And now, a word from our sponsor.
Take a look at your life.
What do you see? Nothing, right?
You can see nothing at all.
Oh, sure, you think you see a series of flashes and flickers of shapes and shades of color.
You think you see familiar things like faces and letters and walls and your own hands.
These aren’t familiar at all.
You’ve never seen any of that before.
Your hands aren’t even your own.
Whose hands are they?
Who are you?
Is this what it is like to die?
Are you dying?
If not, when and where will you die?
When and where were you born, even?
How did you forget your place and date of birth?
I understand you can’t comprehend the relentlessness of existence, but your own birthday is pretty easy to remember.
You’ve got more problems than we thought, listener.
Your birthday is July 3. And your birthplace was Tulsa, Oklahoma. Feel better?
You don’t, actually.
You feel nothing.
Because your hands were never your own.
You are imagining everything and perceiving nothing.
At least you smell nice. We can at least tell you that.
Whose hands are these?