The Cycle
Identity is malleable
Here's the map:
┌─────────────────────────────────────────────────────┐
│ │
▼ │
┌─────┐ ┌─────┐ ┌────────┐ ┌─────┴─────┐
│ DOG │ ──────► │ GOD │ ──────► │ FROZEN │ ──────► │ DEATH │
└─────┘ └─────┘ │ GOD │ └───────────┘
▲ └────────┘ │
│ │
│ ┌───────────┐ │
└───────────── │ ELEVATION │ ◄────────────────────────┘
└───────────┘
You entered this game at one point. You've traced a path through it. Maybe you started as a dog, wondering if you should emerge. Maybe you started frozen, looking for an exit. Maybe you were at the crossroads, unsure which direction to face.
It doesn't matter where you entered. All paths lead to the same recognition:
You will be here again.
Not this exact moment. But this territory. You will be anonymous and wondering if you should become visible. You will be visible and feeling the freeze set in. You will be fading and wondering what to do with what's left.
The internet gave us the power to be anyone. What it didn't tell us is that "anyone" isn't a destination. It's a cycle. A continuous navigation through identities that serve for a while and then need to be released.
The trap is thinking any position is permanent.
The dog who believes they must stay hidden forever becomes stuck—exploration without emergence, infinite potential without actualization.
The god who believes their godhood is earned and stable becomes stuck—clinging to relevance that's already fading, performing a self that stopped being true.
The only way through is to keep moving. Not randomly—intentionally. Knowing which game you're playing. Knowing when the game has changed. Knowing when to emerge, when to freeze, when to die, when to elevate, when to become a dog again.
Identity isn't a place you arrive. It's a way you travel.