Top Story: I'm Not God

"Some of the biggest cases of mistaken identity are among intellectuals who have trouble remembering that they are not God." -- Thomas Sowell My friends told me I wasn't God, and I was very disappointed. I used to think the sun rose because I willed it, but now I understand it's a result of the solar system operating like normal. My car doesn't run on magic sparkle dust I sprinkle on its wheels. That's why I have to pay for gas, I thought it was performance art, a pantomime of what other people have to do. Co-workers don't speak the dialogue I've written in my mind; they are autonomous beings with their own desires and personalities. Even sleep isn't in my control. When I dream it isn't a fantasy where I only pretend to be subjected to anxieties and fears: my boss giving me work I can't handle, donut cream bursting from my expanding stomach, a hotel clerk forcing me to climb to the highest floor of the building. Instead, it's a random collection of images from the waking world, melded into true nightmares. Now I wonder who God is and where he's hiding. I check the seat cushions, question everyone I know. I look into the clouds. I inspect the stars.