Troubles Of The Brain

You could say that nothing here is real. Mere pixels in an electronic print forming shapes we learn from young. We don’t know anything. We try to understand our world and what it holds. We try to the best of our ability. Rather, the best of our best’s ability.

No one person can be guaranteed a life of influence, intelligence and greatness. No one is guaranteed happiness, love, success or anything that we commonly strive for. We’re born, we’re educated, we struggle for some modicum of success. Sure, some people will make it but in the end we all finish in the same place: the Land of the Dead. You then find yourself in the Dead Lands and no one knows what’s happening there. Save the speculation for later. We’re living the rat race.

Our lives are a constant maelstrom of decisions made, decisions pending and the ripple effects that each choice causes. Our actions and reactions in any given circumstance don’t make us who we are but rather clarify who we’ve always been. The only thing that changes is prior experience. Had we known subject X prior to making decision H rather than afterwards, then we would have made the same decision we thought we ought to once we knew X and used that beautiful thing called hindsight. And so we don’t change. We merely clarify our own decision sets and the path we’ve set ourselves on.

That leaves us living our lives with obstacles placed at various and inconsistent points, testing us in ways we’d rather not be tested. We “pass”, we “fail”. We do anything that has been labelled for us long before we ever had to be placed in any such categories. We accumulate and lose memories. Things we like to remember, things we want to forget, things we cannot possibly suppress. And just like our imperfect lives, our memories aren’t faithful to us either. They’re coloured by our desires, whether they have positive, negative or neutral associations. You can’t trust your own mind. You can’t trust yourself. You can’t trust your life. Your life doesn’t trust you.

To dust you shall return after it’s all said and done. You’re gone in the blink of an eye and your ripples are little more than a grain of sand falling into the vastness of a great ocean. You could say that nothing here is real.