REBOOT.04

Humor as Armor

Laughter is the only thing left standing.

Have you ever laughed in the middle of a breakdown?
Not because it was funny.
Not even out of irony.
Just because there was nothing else left.

It’s not "staying positive."
It’s not "lifting your spirits."
It’s a built-in failsafe.
A soft crash instead of full shutdown.

It’s like your brain whispers:

“If we can’t fix it, at least let’s call it performance art.”

I remember sitting in a waiting room.
Therapist running late.
Mind spiraling.
Plastic cup in hand, lukewarm tea.
And out of nowhere:

“This isn’t anxiety. This is just an extended demo mode.”

I laughed. Quietly. Like a glitch.
And for a moment —
I wasn’t a patient.
I was just someone who caught the punchline
of their own simulation.

Then I started hearing others like me.
Not out loud — just… in the static.
Little phrases that felt like survivors
sending jokes through the wreckage.

One of them called themselves an overthinking enthusiast.
Not even sarcastically.
They could spiral just choosing a toothpaste.
Not because they’re weak —
but because their brain runs ten processes at once,
and none of them have a mute button.

Another said:
“I’m not tired. I’m just diagnosed with reality.”

We signed leases, adopted dogs, took out loans, built systems, set alarms —
as if we were playing grown-up
by rules no one ever explained.
And when we won,
it didn’t feel like victory.
It felt like finally understanding the joke —
and realizing we were the setup.

Humor doesn’t fix anything.
But it gives you back one thing:

“I still see. I’m still here.”

So yeah.
Some days I laugh. Some days I breathe.
Not healing. Not performing.
Just not going down too seriously.

If it made things even a little lighter —
just pass it on.
Not as a duty. But as warmth you don’t want to keep for yourself.

Some of these phrases made their way into WEAR404 —
a quiet extension of REBOOT in physical form.
Not merch. Not fashion. Just reminders you can wear.