I can’t remember when I gave up on the idea of the universe making any kind of sense at all, but I know it was a very long time ago. Quite frankly, I find the notion of a world that remains in any way static, or ordered, or is even comprehensible at the most basic level completely awful. To think that this morass of seething quantum uncertainty and relentless, brutal biological vileness might have some actual meaning… That sends a shiver through me.

Of course, the alternative isn’t exactly comfortable. A random and ceaselessly protean universe is quite a scary thing to find oneself in, and maybe too much for some people. I suppose that’s where religions come from; an attempt to impose a pattern all that mess. But if you stare at anything long enough, and you’ll see a pattern. It’s how our brains are built.

Take all that, then take the fact that I've never, ever deluded myself into thinking that I'm the main character in the story - I identify with the sidekick or the friends most of the time. Helping tell it, maybe being a decent part, but not the focus.

Honestly, I think you might be slightly underestimating the effect that you have on other people. In their stories, who knows what part you play?

I hope you’ll forgive me if I continue to consider you a core member of the ensemble cast.