My Letter Came with a Symbol - A Symbol Depicting Some Snake

The apartments that I currently live in were supposedly built only five years ago, but it seems like this complex has been around for much longer. The residents and neighbors are definitely some interesting individuals. Sometimes, it seems they can be more eccentric than first perceived. I moved in only a few years ago, so they easily could be lying about the history of this place. Now that I think about it though, the "they" that told me the history, I have no recollection of who "they" were. They may have been landlords or maybe just people who had recently stayed there or even current residents. Actually, thinking back to when I signed my lease for this apartment, I don't remember going to anyone's office. I remember someone. A person, non-distinguishable from a mere shadow who gave me one sheet. If I remember right, the print was almost too tiny to read and the lighting seemed dimmer than usual. All I remember was seeing the person tapping their pen along the line where I was supposed to sign. I may have well been signing away all my legal obligations towards even being able to rent from this complex. However, renting is a part of being an adult. So I signed. I may be in my late 20's now, but sometimes, adults make mistakes with their lives too. Now that I think even through the past few years, I noticed my neighbors less and less. I have noticed people less and less. I almost feel like I don't need to bother with anyone but myself. When I saw that weird cardboard letter with saying the "The End is Never", I knew that my life was about to get more confusing and complicated very soon and then become very clear because of my dependence on not others, but this complex. However, this complex involves all my neighbors and all the tenants and all the landlords...if they are supposedly that. They knocked on my door. I did not want to answer yet my hands led me to the lock and handle. I opened it and saw the person. The same one who had me sign my contract, except something was different. It was wearing those fancy clothes that the homeless person had worn during my trip to the big city. It was not just a person. This was my landlord. My landlord was the one holding that sign. They were not even my landlord yet or at least I don't think. Why could I not remember or connect the two? "You are ready," said the landlord. "I am ready for nothing," I strongly pronounced each word. "The training is complete!" exclaimed the landlord to no one but myself. "You are ready to un-sign." "Will everyone know the transition?" I asked. "No one ever knows the full transition," stated the landlord. The landlord laid down the statement I had signed those few years ago on that same counter. The same sheet with tiny print and my John Hancock sitting on the bold line stared into my eyes. Sometimes you barely notice you did something till after it was already done moments before, like un-signing my own name. If anyone normal had been there, they would clearly told you that the ink from my signature miraculously went back into that pen. Once that ink returned, I owned that pen. "It is complete," I said to no one other than myself. It all makes sense now why this all happened to me, especially recently. My life was dull and pulling away from what makes life exciting. I can barely remember the people I meet outside of this complex. I barely know my own name. It's probably because they never learned their name either. They never learned who they were until they signed and unsigned. They were like me. They are me. They will always be. I am the landlord.