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I mean, it is, the world has been a hot mess since its inception.
BUT according to a whole bunch of ancient teachings, the simulation theory, and New Age principles, the struggle is all in your head. The whole of reality might be in your head. We may be using a human operating system to interpret a quantum field. Nobody knows.
No matter what life is though, the thing that haunts me is: Why is it so messed up?
WHY is the world so unjust? WHY all the struggle?
I can get weepy thinking about tragedies around the globe and in my own backyard. And I can get angry. Really angry.
It’s not fair. Life just isn’t fair, and no amount of legislation will make it fair. For the record, I do believe in the power of good institutions to make our lives better, but we are never going to have full fairness. Not in the way my inner child is looking for. Ya know?
This is why I write fiction. My books are not happily ever after sweet treats—no judgment on that style of book at all. But my books are raw, real, gritty, and SATISFYING.
Sydney Rye and her dog exact justice with a vengeance. The dog doesn’t die, but the bad guys do. And it feels awesome.
My books satisfy the need for a world that makes sense instead of this crazy simulation, quantum field, or messed up garden created by an almighty deity who is cryptic AF.
Whatever life is, Sydney Rye and Blue make it better.