Preamble

My name is Iris. I've been raised in an environment full of hate.
Let's give you some perspective:

When I was two years old he went to a Forza Nuova rally, to which some people protested by throwing eggs at everyone. I want you to imagine this two year old kid, in a stroller, seeing people run, get egged in the face, as its father yells and mother tries to bring it to the safety of their car.
That was the breaking point for my mother, and she made him reconsider his views, which, however, haven't really changed much since. My father was, and still is, a xenophobe, a racist, an antisemite, a sexist, a homophobe, a transphobe, and an overall bigot.

I was raised under the constant fear of messing up, of getting beat up, and manipulated with lies and omission into doing whatever the hell they wanted me to, whether that was perform the act of "being a family" or studying harder.
Throughout 2016 my parents had a lot of discussions, and as they fought in front of me, I sunk my time deeper and deeper into Minecraft Xbox 360 — and later Xbox One — edition. They were mad, on the brink of divorce, living in separate houses, cheating on one another, smashing their phones out of anger, and all I had was my Minecraft Creative Mode world.
Minecraft is a game that I experienced fully offline and alone.

From 2010 when I first played it on my phone, to this day, Minecraft has been by my side more than any friend, relative or pet. It has also been the only semi-acceptable substitute for a shared physical space: a world made out of blocks, to hang out with my friends and partners in.
This game shaped me. It made me who I am.

And this brings us to what I really wanted to talk about…

The End Poem

I used to consider myself an atheist, yet I've always felt that things happen for a reason — like if there was something pulling the strings, some kind of universal intention.

I believe The End Poem to have some kind of intrinsic power over people. I do not consider its contents to have literal meaning, it is like a parable. It's text written for a block game. Of course it's not meant to have any special spiritual meaning, right? Hell, the author wrote it during a shroom trip in the woods! Why would anyone take it seriously? …yet I do! Kind of.

I'll start off with stuff most of us can get behind.

For those who have not read it before: You can — and should — read it for yourself at archive.org, or, for a more authentic experience, at theendpoem.com. But, the gist of it is: two supernatural entities manifest themselves as text on the credits screen, congratulating you, and explaining more about the long dream of Minecraft.

I will now quote and dissect the poem. The lime entity is in bold and the cyan entity is in plain text.

On Sorrow

These entities talk about how the player has played in worlds of their own creation, worlds built to explore, play, escape real life, but also, worlds that caused them to inflict pain and suffering upon themselves, worlds built to digest and process the inner workings of oneself. This strongly connects to how I used the game to cope, to escape, to vent my feelings out — and to how I use art.

They go on to say that this sorrow, this melancholy the player feels, is not something that can be taken out: it is part of the player's growth and story, it is an essential part of life, and that a life without suffering cannot possibly exist without obliterating all the properties that make a player themselves, unique, alive, human, able to feel happiness.

Life is a sine wave. Peaks and troughs.

Who Are We?

Yeah. Who are they?

This tells us two things. The entities we are reading are supernatural, and have existed for as long as this world has. They are every single deity or spirit any and every civilization has tried to descrive.

They explain how, the universe, exists and functions to grow and nurture the player. They imply that they are the universe, that you are the universe, that they are not separate from you, that this is merely a projection of you, talking to yourself.
In a certain sense, this means that we are our own. We're our galaxies, our lives, our planets, our stories, music, foods, smells. We're our friends, our families, we're everyone. Everything is you. And it is with this philosophy that I have been processing life.

On Love

As we read the poem we are told that both the pain the player fights, and the light the player needs to escape this darkness, are something that comes from within. We are also told that the player is love. Love itself.

I interpret this as follows: the player's life purpose is to love, to spread love, to love itself, to love everything and everyone. That's the big message I take out of the poem.
And to love others, you do need to love yourself first, because there is no difference. There is no you or I. We are not separate things. And all the outward hate you feel, all of it, is hate against yourself too.

Something a bit harder to swallow is: reality itself is made to grow each and every single player, that the hardships are a test made to grow us. That's what it means to be the player: to play the game of life, to grind, to pass the hardships, to slay the bosses, to build a house, a pretty house, to demolish it, and build a better one, to die and respawn, loving everyone else on the server, for they live with you, and are part of this all encompassing universal life, that loves you back.

In this sense, if everything happens for growth, every single soul you meet is of immense value, especially those that push you to do better, that challenge you and your views, even if it hurts. Your life is enriched only by loving others, by fighting pain, by growing yourself, changing, healing yourself and those around you, and experiencing as much of the universe as possible. Most of the behaviours this poem preaches are common in religions that span from east to west and across the entire history of humanity. They appear to be innate desires of mankind: to live life and improve life for others, to wish for nothing but happiness, but accepting pain as a normal part of life.

On Hate

Sometimes the notes that are not played matter just as much as the ones that are.

If loving is what makes someone a good player, that must mean hate is the wrong way to live life. No matter what or who you hate. On a psychological level, this aligns with what we know about hate: it is the easiest and weakest feeling to have. It's an automatic reaction when presented with something we cannot relate to or do not understand. Hating is easy, loving hurts. To love is to make yourself vulnerable.

Yet loving is not taught. You do not need to learn to love, you are born into it, loving your parents, the places you live in, the things you see. Hatred is something humans learn. Kids do not discriminate until someone in their life shows their bias and they appropriate that behaviour. Hate is either a response to fear or an emulation to fit into society.

Humans have always felt and will always feel hate, but when concepts like status, money, ownership of territory and/or things, monogamy and such arose, the vitriol we experienced started to overwhelm us and shape society itself. Hate is a learning opportunity. Once we learn what we hate, we can learn how to process it. Going for a walk, thinking, talking, is productive. Yelling, fighting, hurting people, leaves you with nothing.

We all must make our best effort to tolerate life's hardships. Only through self-evaluation and restraint we can love fully, be loved fully and truly live.