Life is surreal

Alex General Nuggets 0 Comments

“Y’know,” I said whilst taking a huge bite into the side of a bright green apple, “life’s a surreal experience.” My brother stared at me in bemusement, “how?” he said quizzically. I just shook my head and laughed. You see, much of life is defined by logic, I’ve a mathematical mind by nature and when someone asks me to paint a picture, well, I leave that to a certified artist; Human nature however is often not a logical or rational thing. Sure you can analyse its patterns , sure you can put people into boxes, but what you’ll begin to realise is that it’s not all black and white.

Perhaps you’ll write rulebooks, perhaps you’ll let them define who you are. Perhaps you’ll meet people, perhaps you’ll change because of their judgement. Perhaps you’ll learn not to care, but there will be some things you will still care about, because let’s face it, who really cares that it rains all day in Britain? One day you’ll have everything and the next, you’ll have nothing, but then again, that’s very much business as usual. Play the game, play it well or it will play you. Focus on what feels right, but don’t let that cloud your judgement.

Maybe you’ll create theories, I suspect you already have, you make guesses about how people will react in a given circumstance of course it’s not always that simple, but experience makes that easier to understand.

Sometimes when I played the game I won, other times, I lost but won in other ways, sometimes I was surprised by the game’s simplicity, sometimes I was crushed by my own defeat. But then there were other times, where I ran around like a headless chicken. No direction, no clue, yet all the energy in the world.

One day the universe drained me of my power. I laid lifelessly in my bed for a few days and drank until I felt physically sick, but not mentally anymore. I remained like this for many months. Alive on the outside, yet dead on the inside.

And then one day, the universe gave me my power back. Things started to change, maybe I killed him, that man for even I was ashamed of him for now in his place standing tall is him or rather me, who I am and not who I used to be. Confident, comfortable and capable. My only limitation? Boredom and lack of mental stimulation from what I used to describe as challenges.

I once questioned the difference, I once asked what’s changed. In a way I’d say there’s a lot of things that have changed, but in other ways, well, they haven’t. Perhaps they don’t need to. Your future? Well I don’t even know mine so how can I know yours? My future, well it’s unresolved, my mind can’t quite comprehend the dizzy heights of it all yet.

One thing I can say is that most people I meet, they resign themselves to a future that doesn’t expect anything from them. To me that sounds boring, don’t tell me that you don’t agree with me, tell me you’re different.

Am I evil or am I good? Maybe I don’t have an alignment, perhaps I’m neutral or perhaps my acts of good and evil cancel each other out. Either way, I know they don’t exist, these concepts I read once in an ancient library inside my mind. There are books there, fables of a past life, of an ancient empire that was burned down by a malevolent and blood thirsty tyrant.

Some people take life to seriously, they get wrapped up in it all and want explanations for everything. They thought I was a bit of an arsehole. Maybe is all I can say to that. Consider this, does the world exist if it isn’t observed, an extension to the classic of a tree falling in a forest.

Some days I woke up vengeful, on the warpath. I lost my faith in humanity, I learned to despise everything. I shouted, I cursed and like Cave Johnson took to the battlefield with combustible lemons to burn life’s house down. Cold and cynical yet down to earth.

One day I had to speak with sadness in my voice. I made a room of sad faces burst into tears, perhaps regretful that a man they hated so much could be such an icon to his adopted grandchildren when he married my grandmother.

One day someone restored my faith in humanity that day, someone dear to me ran away.

But out of all of these moments, do any of them feel sane, do any of them feel real. If you can predict exactly what’s going to happen, is it really living? This is a question I ask myself as I tie up my laces and recite the numbers from one to one hundred backwards. Does everything really exist? As I gaze into the darkness of my room I seriously begin to doubt it.

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