I hate it when I have an existential crisis, preventing me from hiding my crippling depression and self-doubt behind dank memes, forcing me further into depression, creating a vicious cycle where I get deeper into depression until I'm a self-loathing idiot who is afraid to talk to anyone out of fear of rejection, instead choosing to hide behind multiple layers of obfuscation and irony too confusing for any sane person to comprehend, which ultimately culminates in a nervous breakdown, at which point my mind snaps and I get transported to an alternate dimension where evil aliens from outer space abduct me and steal my memories, forcing me to play a card game to get them back, when I suddenly realize the aliens just ripped off a GBA game, at which point I call them out on it, to which they respond by devising a new game where I have to fill in numbers in boxes, making sure that no number repeats itself in any column, row, or box, to which I realize that they ripped off another game, to which the aliens ask me what game, to which I respond sudoku, to which the aliens respond why sudoku, to which I respond I've considered committing sudoku multiple times, to which the aliens laugh heartily and drop me back on Earth, at which point I meet my alternate self, who is much better looking and smarter than I am, to which, in a fit of jealousy, I kick him in the shin, at which point I get arrested by the police, to which I justify my actions by explaining that I was just hurting muself, at which point aliens abduct me again, apologize for ripping off two Earth games, and offer to send me back to my own dimension, where I live out the rest of my life, old and alone.
I'm sane. Really.