The End Is A Lie

"Hello, dear Reader! I apologize, but I don't know your name. Are you perhaps a new player? Or someone else? I'm not sure. No idea if anyone besides me will ever come across these notes. Perhaps I write them for myself..." He tossed his pen aside as he paused for a moment. Sitting on the ground, he rested his head in his hands, lost in his own thoughts. Sheets of paper were scattered chaotically around him, strewn across the floor. "I know. It's pointless." He resumed writing on a random piece of paper. "When I return, all my notes will disappear. It has happened before, and it will happen again. Maybe next time it will be cardboard boxes instead of papers. It just happens. I don't need so many boxes, but I always order them whenever I get the chance. It doesn't even serve any purpose; the boxes are empty, I've checked. They only get in the way. They often block the door and prevent me from reaching the windows. Yet, for some reason, I keep confirming their delivery. Why? To be honest, sometimes I'm not even sure I understand the meaning behind my own actions. Sometimes—too often—I simply don't understand anything here. I am so confused! I'm tired of trying to comprehend everything that's happening here..." He let out a heavy sigh and stopped, tossing his pen away once more. His hand slipped under a pile of papers and pulled out a fresh sheet. This time it was a clean new sheet of paper. The man looked at it with mild surprise, then shrugged and returned to his task, completely unaware that the ink in his pen was rapidly running out. "Stanley, are you listening?" The Narrator's voice echoed in his ears. "Are you still writing? I don't recall you ever having any writing skills. As far as I know, you are only talented at pushing buttons and nothing more. Oh, what terrible handwriting you have, Stanley! Even I can't read it! So, what are you writing, Stanley? A story about our adventures? Or perhaps you are attempting to write your own story? No no, of course not. I am the only one who can write stories here. I suppose you have decided to start a diary, Stanley. And right now, you are jotting down your innermost personal secrets... I assume it's something about the Lounge, isn't it? Am I correct? However, you don't need to answer. It would be better if I never found out. Ah, I see your pen is out of ink. What a disappointment! Now, can we finally get back to our Story?" Stanley stood up and kicked the pile of papers in frustration. Letting out a sigh, he glanced one last time at his pen, which lay discarded on the ground. Of course, it would be easy to find another one, but Stanley wasn't certain if his notes would be safe. In the end, he knew that almost all of them would disappear with the next restart. "When Stanley reached the two open doors, he entered the door on his left." Ignoring the familiar words of the Narrator, Stanley turned and, without any hesitation, headed towards the right door, leading to a massive warehouse. The Narrator fell silent, seemingly deciding to let events unfold naturally. Or perhaps he was growing tired of repeating the same thing, Stanley thought to himself. How many times have I been here? Five? Eight? Ten? Maybe even more? I can't remember... After crossing the iron bridge and arriving at the location with the Red and Blue doors, Stanley came to a halt. He stared down at his feet, his eyes widening in surprise. A long yellow line™ was crawling along the gray concrete floor, coming from all sorts of various angles. "What are you staring at, Stanley?" The Narrator asked. "... Ah, I see. Curious, I don't recall The Adventure Line™ being here. Why is it™ here? Do you remember, Stanley? Hmm?.." Silently, Stanley moved forward, following the Line™. Today, he hadn't yet taken the elevator to reach the Confusion Ending, so it™ shouldn't be present in this area. However, one couldn't deny the fact that the Game was changing on its own. Even the Narrator couldn't control it. "Stanley went to the Red door. Good. I am glad you are listening to me, but I am worried about this Line™. Don’t follow it™, Stanley. It™'s up to no good, I am sure of that. Stop for a minute, please. Why are you in such a hurry all the time?" Stanley humbly stopped in a long corridor, and from the air, doors appeared. Many doors. And they all were open hospitably. "I think I overdid it a bit, my apologies," the Narrator said indifferently. "Don't pay attention to them, Stanley. They all lead to the same place anyway." Perhaps they are all leading to the room with stars. But you forgot about the Line™! Stanley thought and dove into the door where the yellow line™ lay.