It's a mad world out there. Even worse, it's a fucked up world out there. And John Doe is one small, insignificant piece of broken puzzle in this godly forgotten world. Poor sucker. And he just recently figured this out, if only he had known. Until now, he thought that he was the one who needed fixing, that he was the one that was broken, but truth is, the world is broken, and now he has come to realize this. Everything changes, but no one does. John is amongst the wrong people in the wrong place in this reality.
Everybody has baggage. One way or another, everyone gets hurt, and everybody gets dumb, and we all fuck up. That's just the way life goes, it's nothing personal. John thought that the world was out to get him, when it was just happening to him like it's happening to everybody else. Reality is a dark, dark place, that's why John keeps finding his way back to his own mind, to his own reality, the one trapped inside his brain. It's a much comfier, more familiar place in there, and that's why every struggle to escape into the real world seems to end in complete and utter failure for him.
But he's not mad. He used to be frustrated, thinking that nothing really good would ever happen to him. And he was right. At the same time though, he was very wrong. It's true that a miracle will never happen to him, no matter how hard he prays for it, but not because he's fucked up. That has little to nothing to do with it. No, the reason is much simpler and completely objective. The truth is, nothing really good ever happens to anyone, so why should John Doe be an exception?
Actually, he should be an exception, shouldn't he? After all, it's called "The book of the extraordinary John Doe", so he should be at least a tiny bit of special. But he's not. The title is a lie. It's a big fat lie. Everything is a lie. Nothing's real anymore. It has all been just a dream. Just a bad dream, an illusion, conjured by the mind. The things he did, the things he said, who he is, if he is, it's all just dusty dreaming, and it's all over now. She wasn't real either, it wasn't real, it never happened, pure fiction, you're in fact normal, you're back to square one. In a while you'll forget you even dreamt this.
Oh how he wishes he could say this. You can't imagine how many times John has rehearsed this scenario in his head, hoping that this time it would be different, this time it would be real. And he would actually wake up and start his life all over again. All the deaths, all the pain, all the rejection, all the loss, all of them just pure fiction that his mind had nothing better to do than to bring up in a night's rest. How perfect would it be? But it's not. And John isn't an exception. He wasn't asleep during his existence, and he sure isn't asleep now. He's just numb. And stupid. And it's all real. It's not a bad dream. Reality is a bad dream. And someone forgot to set the alarm.
Sometimes, actually all the time, John wonders how life would have been if he wasn't such a screw-up. If he was just another person, living just another boring life, deluding himself with the plastic-flower smell of prefabricated happiness. And it doesn't seem so bad when he thinks about it. But it is. On the long run, the realization of nothingness is far more useful than the illusion of happiness. Because if you know you've got a problem, you also know that you need to fix it. Or at least try to. And that's what he has his mind set on, fixing it. Not becoming happy, just fixing it, whatever 'it' is. On the short term though, there's only one thing that's completely true. John Doe is without doubt a screw-up. An extraordinary screw-up. And that's fine by him.