text: Go ahead, ask anyone about the life and lies of Squidward and I assure you, there will be an overwhelming amount of negativity to suffer through. This hate against the classic villain from SpongeBob has been fostered over years of careful production, through hours of screenwriting and voice acting. Squidward is portrayed as the evil of the show and naturally, that means he is. The off-blue octopus did not have an easy life, of course. Living next to a neon yellow, overly enthusiastic, and possibly mentally ill sponge with his cognitively impaired best friend takes a lot of energy that the character just didn’t possess. As introverted of a character as he was, it also seems cruel to put him on the front lines of a restaurant, dealing with navigating the ins and outs of society. On the other hand, the sea creature wasn’t necessarily the friendliest in return, even when one factors in the inner workings of the story, seemingly all set against him by default. Having lively neighbours isn’t necessarily a justification to be stuck up or rude, as Squidward has been described. People have even gone so far as to describe him as a “terrible person” who “doesn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy,” credit to u/\[deleted\]. Is this judgement too harsh? Could it be that Squidward is a being merely longing for love, but having his heart broken time and time again? Only time can tell, and it surely did. As one may or may not think, depending on their dedication to SpongeBob or simply their intelligence quotient, after the era of SpongeBob ends none of Squidward’s personality will have mattered anymore. Not one thing, good or bad, could be remembered by him or his peers, unless of course you consider the producers of the show to be peers. On that day, the entire era, the childhood of many, the show will be ended. That’s right, the flow of creative work came to an end and media began a new period in time. But this leaves the mind scattering to find peace - what happened to Squidward? Now, of course, the characters of the show could not have died, it is simply not feasible. The death of something that never truly existed - is that really possible? Well, in a sense yes. But think not of it as a physical death. The characters simply ceased to exist, leaving behind everything they called home but at the same time one most wonder... are they not still there, stuck for eternity in the closing scene, down in Bikini Bottom? In the famous words of Billie Eyelash, when Squidward falls asleep where does he go? When you think about it closely enough, it all really makes sense. He’s in a constant state of being somewhere between the living and the dead, a sort of Limbo, if you will. He can’t feel, see, hear, smell, or taste anything, as all his spirit is tethered to are fading memories, as soon as those memories die out, whatever is left of him now will just be forgotten by the sands of time, a place where many a soul will always end up. The rest of Bikini Bottom has suffered the same exact fate. Empty streets with buzzing streetlights, vacant homes alive with mildew and molds, not a whisper to be heard, just the material plane left untouched for eons. Not a soul present, yet not a soul removed. This, to the purest and innocent of souls, could seem overwhelming. It’s not anything to fear though, this fact of life. That is, for most people. But then, of course, a select few, the Chosen Ones if you will, have the desire, the pulling force that guides them to look deeper within themselves and discover the dark truth. That maybe, just maybe, death really does exist for those in the Bikini Bottom. And that possibly, in some alternate universe not fully discovered but slightly unsheathed to those most worthy, the characters of the show lay in wait. Their bodies decomposing into smithereens just as the houses crumble and the stove corrodes. Of course, they can no longer feel it. You may think. They are, of course, gone, dead or not. But then you realize that in some glitch in the metaverse, they feel everything around them. They are simply unable to react. Squidward can still feel the pain of his entire life, stemming from the pure hatred stacked upon him from his first day of existence. You wonder if maybe, just maybe, Squidward is able to reflect, feel, but not react. And then you realize, as you, now embodying the being and whole of Squidward, drift off into what may seem to be a fever dream at first. But you know it is real. Of course you do. Enter Squidward, a man who had no desire in life other than to make others happy, to keep them well. Life did not harbour the same plan for him. Flipping burgers wasn’t where Squidward wanted to be. His one true desire in life, the only thing that could truly make him happy was... nothing. And it wasn’t a matter of being picky, no, it truly rested in one’s realization that the squid would never be remembered in a good light. The Creators, the worshipped ones, had decided that an enemy of the plotline was needed and that decision, in and of itself, created both a victim and a monster. Squidward. His generous, giving personality did not match the attributes assigned to him, in fact they went against the biological capabilities of a being’s brain. And so eventually Squidward snapped and became what he was portrayed as. At first it was difficult to conform, but soon it became a part of him. At first his true being started to become merely ‘watered down’ by the mask he was wearing, but soon this mask became a part of him, whether forced or by some sort of... intrinsic evil nature. Squidward became the person he swore never to be, and while most of his brain had become in line with what he was his morals, his ability to simply know what was right, had not changed in the slightest. And so he was not happy, knowing that he would be remembered as the squid with no heart but with no ability to change this fate. The moody, depressed squid. The picky squid. And he was. The ending of Bikini Bottom was a bittersweet moment in time for the middle-aged squid. As he continued to grow old, he had grown more into this bewitched personality and completely lost his true identity, but his moral standings for what was right had grown stronger by the minute. And so as Bikini Bottom faded to a grey and white memory, Squidward did as well. SpongeBob lost all life in his eyes, Patrick lost his smile, Mr. Krabs’ blissful nature disappeared. But Squidward, besides the change of color, had no change in the lack of life behind his eyes, or his always annoyed facial expression. As Squidward’s entire city crumbled around him and his ever-conflicting biological alterations came to a standstill, he did not care. Even in Squidward’s last moments of life, of being, of existence, no life in his eyes was detected. It had never been. As long as the Squid had existed, he had been seen as a terrible person, one with no capability to love, to feel. Little did they know that he was capable of such things, but that they had been ripped away by the capitalism of the media once again. Bikini Bottom would never be his home, not after what they had done. And as the city lay still, one by one, everyone forgot about the emotional turmoil “Squidward’s character” had caused them. But Squidward, his conscience and his being, will never forget. He will remember. You come to, with either a new realization or a deeper one. Squidward is in the multiverse, thinking and feeling, with conscience but somehow, lacking consciousness. But of course, in a world with so many possibilities is it not foolish to assume that this is the correct one? What secrets are revealed in another, undiscovered territory of the verses that we have yet to experience? Well, of course, it is just as foolish to attempt to dwell on this, and to figure out every possibility in a sea of them. But there are some things that simply need to be touched on, spiritually and physically. The slide guitar being one of them. And of course, you and Squidward, your souls now morphed into one in a way from your past experiences, feel yourself drift into what seems to be another experience. But this time, it is not out of body. You can feel yourself, your tentacles, your bald head. The clarinet you enjoy so dearly to play seems to harmonize with another instrument off in the distance. You guessed it, of course you did as a long-time member of Bikini Bottom - it’s the slide guitar. And unbeknownst to most, but to you and to Squidward; a sad slide guitar plays somewhere in the distance just out of earshot. A weeping soul, broadcasting it’s last hoorah on our soul wavelength; you then realize, it’s not sound your hearing, the guitar is communicating with you directly. It’s but a messenger for feelings previously unfelt, experiences most unknown, warnings and omens of the coming trials of tomorrow. We have yet to face them, but they will surely bring us to that same dingy lake one day. It reverberates through the trenches of the abyssal zone in the deep ocean, snippets of information being lost in the dense mass of water. The surrounding pressure feels, strange. Void of life, you may not realize it now, but this world you believe to view is devoid of any life, including you, a cob which has left behind it’s husk. A wandering spirit. These pitch black navy waters crushing you down but only in a silent and determined way. Millennium pass during your trek of these deep sea trenches. As you exit this mind-altering state of being, you do not feel fulfilled as with the last flash of vision. You are filled with envy and with dread - almost as if you are beginning to experience an existential crisis, if you will. But different than you have felt before. This leaves you feeling, feeling more than you believed to be humanly possible. You may not want to hear more of this dreadful, eye-opening material but curiosity and a passion to know what is beneath keep you from turning to the exit. And so you move forward through the dark halls, taking turns in directions never before travelled. You open doors that are pathways to memories, new experiences never showcased in the seemingly happy show. You are in the backrooms, of what you do not know. Each door you pass is a possibility, and each you do not open is one you will never gain knowledge from. You stop at the passageway featuring a cascading blackness, a level of unlight you did not know to be physically possible. And it isn’t. But you are no longer in the physical world, no. You have entered the limbo. You are the limbo. Opening the door provides a wave of dark, sinister feelings but with that you bear more knowledge. And the further you walk through this, the more you realize, and the more you fear. You come to a great fork in the road that is existence, you choose the one that calls to you most. And you are faced with yourself, and with the turmoil of life itself. He still lingers in the salty depths of the underwater world, deep below, farther down than any human was ever meant to survive. But we, we feel this thing that Squidward is experiencing, some lost in translation, but a burst of passion, if anything. This abyss leads places that intelligent life may never know about, these deep winding tunnels only mocking us, coaxing us deeper into the depths of the unknowns. There is no fear, no sadness, no happiness, nothing. We have only ever experienced, and only ever will, but only so much. Squidward knows of this as well, he refused it his entire waking life, even during sleep at times. A miserable life led to nothing other than a foggy cavern of mystery for our beloved Squidward. What an unfortunate series of events, from the canned milk to the clarinet, he was a mortal soul, calling out into the void, praying for an answer. None was given. Now he is left alone in this moisture to contemplate what he once was, a mind without a matter, a life, without death, and a death, containing nothing other than his true essence. Fear. Running out, back, up out of the dark state of mind you are in seems to take forever. And of course it does. The state of mind cannot be changed once it has been altered like this. You become one with this darkness and you are permitted to leave the abyss. But if you do not, you will stay in the depths and eventually become one with it, but not by choice. You accept the depression, the terrible realization that what once was will never be. And of course you are let out of the abyss, but there is nothing else to life other than the abyss now. Everything has lost its color; you are fading just as Squidward has. All that is left are the possibilities, and they envelop you. One stands out. In it, you are back to a realization that you have almost had before, but with a much deeper understanding of what is and what is not. In this alternative way of existence, you do not see Squidward but you know of his presence. Unbeknownst to the sea creature, he was born into a world where abstract constructs are all the eyes will ever see. This deep longing he dealt with his entire life, compacted only into a thought, occurring within a split second; ceasing continuation within an infinity of time, going by in a spark. This bursting decadence he once felt, then stifled by his own machinations. Soon not to be, and to be, he never was, he lives on in one way or another. His fleeting light, trapped in a limbo, a one dimensional plane, with four dimensional pieces. His whole life, though passed and experienced, he knows nothing about. Memories begin to fade, what once was his life, his love, his hatred, and his pride are all burning embers of an extinguished flame. Though he knows not now, he is subject to what many might consider a personal hell, what mortal minds see as bad, he merely just sees it. Without a body, he is left to only receive. No sight, no sound, no taste and no feeling. Merely his fading memories there to guide him, confused and dazed as a life form, he is now a supernova, a black hole, a universe. But once more, he knows not of what he witnesses. Staring into the deep blue and pitch navy-black trenches of the abyssal sea, he wanders, searching. Though a lost spirit, he is curious; a feeling once again felt after decades of empty existence. On, off, on, off, he lived only once in binary. Flowing now, he is able to see what he once missed out on, fearful of what lies past the horizon of this cruel pressure. Non-physical, he may be, but every immeasurable amount of pressure he still bears. Eons pass as he wanders the boundless stretches of lonesomeness, stuck in a timeless zone of constant fluctuation. The feeling has been present since the end, an instant realization that these waters, as large and infinite as they may be, they are lifeless. Devoid of any and all other conscious beings. Numbness may be the only description of this silent cavern of salt water. What lies above the surface he has never tried to explore, in dreams he may venture to god Neptune, nay here, he lay quiet. This deafening hollow landscape, fading exponentially, some may want to reflect. This soul we watch after does not. Distant steel guitar plays, just out of earshot, it weeps for us all, though of course, it’s only sitting in with his own reality. Playing notes never once before heard, it carries a message hidden between each memory, faded but available, it is found once more. His soulful coil ever changing in a non-Euclidean sort of way. His last moments of activity consist of more wandering, the same wandering he refused to give up in his physical being. Gone. Inactive. Wiped away, he ceases to exist, you may believe he was once here, but as a mortal being, we may never know the truth of our own inner workings, and those who have already left us in more ways than one. Sands of time have consumed his every part and trigger, everything that was once around him growing mildew and mold. Wallpaper slowly ripping itself off of his once habited abode. At the point in which you are, coming back from such darkness no longer seems to be a possibility. You long for the bliss that SpongeBob and his friends possess, and that is when you realize that Squidward is more a part of you than ever before. Squidward was a being entered into the Limbo before any other, existing in a world he was not meant to be in. Would you be happy in such a way of life? Of course not, and this has been proven to you today. It seems that the only thing you could really find comfort in at this point is the satisfaction of knowing that someone relates. Squidward. But of course, who is to say what is and what is not, as previously stated? How can we be sure that Squidward is what we think he is? The only real proof of Squidward's existence is from the creator's mind, so at the end of the day he could be completely different, and the animator could just have a bias against him. Is it possible that a very similar, yet different biologically of course, Squidward-like-human exists somewhere. Technically Squidward could be anyone, since no one has proof of how he looks or what he's really like, beyond the mind of the media. You could be Squidward, but you wouldn't know it since your brain doesn't have the capacity to understand that it is. No one is Squidward, he does not exist. But everyone embodies him, in every way, shape, and form. You exit the journey, no longer the same, no sense of joy within your soul. Every aspect of ignorance and bliss has been stripped from you, and you are left in the desolate and dingy lake. It is too far below the surface for anyone to see you and help you out, but too close for you to lose your last sense of hope and stop treading the waters. Oh what a realization it will be when it becomes known that you are tethered to the bottom of this bottomless abyss. There is nowhere to go but down, and there is no end to life or to death in this Limbo either. You hear the guitar somewhere beneath you, and you hear the sounds of boats atop the lake. Squidward is everywhere around you, but no where in sight and not reachable by any force known to man or to any living matter on the known universe. His weeping may be heard another day, from another sky than ours, he will call you, he will call I, limbo may be around the corner, but that will never stop you and I from living what he may have never been brave enough to live.