Warning: This may only make sense if the reader has seen/understands the plot of the director's cut.
Dedicated to Liz, one of the biggest badasses I know, and the person who introduced me to this lovely movie.
All that Tangent Universe shit is annoying—and unimportant, in the grand scheme of things. Bottom line is that reality was broken, so I fixed it. I had to; I was the only one that could.
I'm awaiting death now, but it's okay because I made it that way. I want it that way. It's what needs to be done; not for the correction of space-time, but for her. For her protection, her sanity, and maybe mine too (speaking loosely.)
I remember when I first met her, when I first told her my name. She said, "What kind of name is that? It sounds like…a superhero or something." She was right, in a way.
It's a funny image; in my head I can see myself, spandex-clad with a black mask across my eyes, flying despite a lack of wings, lifting the jet turbine with one hand and throwing it back to the beginning through a wormhole I made with the other hand.
Yeah, that's it. Donnie Darko: Schizophrenic Boy Wonder. Saving reality, one Tangent Universe at a time. They could make a movie out of it.
I'm laughing now, and I guess that's okay too. I mean, even though I can't help that I'm about to die alone, I can still make it so that I die happy. (Or, at least, in a good mood.) Grandma Death never said anything about that.