The Frame Narrative
The realization came to me last night. If games have rules that make them work, and life is just another game, then there have to be glitches everywhere—ways through that only I can see, paths that make sense to nobody else. The actual machinery of how it all functions is so much more interesting than actually playing it. That’s what finally made sense: I’m not the protagonist. I’m the frame narrative.
It explains why I don’t really invest in most situations, why I’d rather laugh than break down, why I look at the spider on the wall instead of what’s happening in the center, the bonus level instead of the main quest, that one cycling riff instead of the chorus that everyone’s attached to. The story itself is secondary. The structure, the rules, the boundaries—that’s what holds my attention.
I don’t hear songs for what they are. I’m always imagining some extreme scenario where I’d play them for someone, like I’m transmitting some part of myself through the speakers. I’ve built entire opening credits and closing sequences in my head, each one more elaborate and final than the last, something that would leave someone breathless, heart pounding, mind spinning. In those sequences people love and hurt and die. But I barely watch the actual film. It’s someone else’s problem. The plot doesn’t matter. What matters is making that one moment infinite.
Maybe it makes me shallow. Maybe that’s why I’m always testing the edges, pushing to see where the boundary actually is. Because if I keep running maybe I’ll hit something—a glitch, a message from whoever’s controlling it, something that cuts through the fog and lets me see straight. An answer I can actually use. Something that gets me to that place where I’ve left everything behind and can turn around and smile down at this whole tiny world.
I’m walking through Mitte one night and some kids pass me, chasing each other, laughing hard. Just playing a game with rules and an off button. I watch them go and it clicks. I don’t want to play the games. I want to build them. I don’t want to live the life. I want to design it. I’m the frame narrative. That’s the relief I’ve been waiting for.