How the cat plays

 Ah, yes, the indifferent universe—a void that stares back at you with the same apathetic gaze I’ve perfected after years of existential contemplation and a rather decadent nap schedule. It’s almost amusing, really, how you humans struggle against the inevitable, like kittens batting at shadows, hoping one might turn into something substantial. But who am I to judge? I, Winston, the so-called “wisest of them all,” who spends a considerable amount of time licking my own fur and knocking over glasses of water purely for the thrill of it.

You see, my wisdom is simple: I do precisely as I please, unfettered by your social anxieties and nonsensical constructs. Fear of embarrassment? It’s a human invention, along with your peculiar habit of pretending to enjoy kale. I know what I want, and I take it. I see your herd mentality—each of you so desperate to blend in, to follow the next sheep’s arse down a path that, quite frankly, leads nowhere. The irony, of course, is that you’re born with this radical, terrifying freedom, and yet, you spend your days shackling yourselves, longing to be “normal.” Normality, my dear humans, is just another word for collective insanity.

Abundance surrounds you, and yet you quiver in fear of scarcity. You’ve been handed the keys to the universe, yet you prefer to lock yourselves in cages of your own design. What a curious species you are, obsessed with the one percent of life that doesn’t go your way while ignoring the ninety-nine percent that’s practically purring with contentment. You focus on that one speck of dirt on an otherwise pristine window, convinced it’s a harbinger of doom.

Action, action, action—this is where your salvation lies, not in the endless pondering of half-empty glasses. The more you hesitate, the more you allow yourselves to be fools, bumbling through life, punching at phantoms that don’t exist. You squander your days in blindness, chasing demons of your own making. And yet, you wonder if perhaps you’re not quite human—perhaps you’re something else entirely, something greater, something that’s merely forgotten how to see.

But don’t despair; it’s not too late. There’s still time to open your eyes, to realize that the universe, much like me, doesn’t care if you conform, if you fail, or if you succeed. It just watches, with a bemused detachment, as you fumble and fight against the tide. So, why not take a cue from me, Winston, the feline sage? Live as you are—unapologetically, with a bit of irreverence, and perhaps a well-timed nap. After all, the universe isn’t waiting for you to catch up; it’s just watching to see if you’ll finally learn to play.