Ladies and gentlemen, friends, skeptics, and the mildly interested bystanders.

Thank you for being here. 

Or for appearing here. 

Or for clicking, wondering how long you have to stay before it looks polite.

I come to you not with a plan, but with something better; a theme. 

And like all good themes, it is vague, slightly philosophical, and conveniently hard to disprove.

We will not make the same mistakes we did in the past.

No. We are better than that.

We will make new mistakes. 

Spectacular mistakes. 

Beautiful, baffling, deeply original mistakes that people will talk about for minutes.

We will not trip over the same rock, we will catapult ourselves into a completely different canyon. 

Because that’s what progress looks like. 

That’s what forward means. 

It’s not just walking in a straight line it’s confidently wandering into unfamiliar chaos with a pocket full of optimism and a flashlight that definitely needs new batteries.

And while we’re wandering?

Let’s make believe better.

Now, that might sound like nonsense. 

And that’s because it is. 

But it’s meaningful nonsense. 

The best kind.

Let me explain.

To “make believe better” is not to pretend things are perfect. 

It’s not blind hope or empty cheerleading. 

It’s the radical act of choosing, in the face of overwhelming absurdity, to build something that didn’t exist before. 

Even if it’s held together with duct tape and existential dread.

Because if we don’t believe in something better if we don’t dare to imagine it, then what are we doing? 

Just rearranging the chairs on a sinking spaceship? 

Updating the terms and conditions of despair?

No. We’re here to try. 

To fumble. 

To fail so creatively that even our ghosts will be impressed.

Look, history has a track record. 

And… it’s… mixed.

We’ve done a lot of dumb things. 

Like believing lead was a flavor enhancer. 

Or that putting a canal through a swamp was a quick weekend project. 

Or that meetings solve anything.

They do not.

But here’s the beauty: we don’t have to be bound by the ghosts of bad decisions. 

We can acknowledge them, roast them lovingly, and then go make some new ones. 

With style.

Because this moment, 

right now,

is the only one we’ve got. 

And it’s fleeting. 

Like a raccoon on a scooter. 

Strange, quick, and slightly threatening.

But it’s ours.

So what are we going to do with it?

We’re going to imagine new systems. 

Try new tools. 

Speak strange truths. 

We’re going to build things that no one asked for and improve things that desperately needed it. 

We’re going to collaborate with people we never thought we’d work with, 

because they challenge us, 

because they surprise us, 

because they remind us that better isn’t built in the echo of the chamber.

And we’re going to laugh. 

Not because it’s always funny

but because sometimes it’s the only way to keep from weeping into a vat of cold spaghetti.

Make believe better is a dare.

It’s a wink at the void.

It’s a whispered rebellion that says: “I know this doesn’t make sense. But I’m going to try anyway.”

So let’s move forward

not cautiously, 

but courageously. 

Let’s make mistakes we’ve never even imagined before. 

Let’s leave behind footprints so weird and wonderful that future civilizations find them and say, 

“What in the world were they doing?” 

And let’s make sure the answer is; trying.

Trying to connect.

Trying to create.

Trying to care.

Trying to make believe better.

Please.