S Pink Premium Pointer Bio-Tagebuch (nur 3% Fantasie): Just what is reality anyway?
People used to remind me that "not everything's either black or white", but that doesn't mean they don't exist.
Because, where is all that grey coming from?

Samstag, 12. Juli 2014

Just what is reality anyway?

Reality isn't an actual thing, you know.
It's a construct, a made-up thing.
What makes things "real" is the fact that just enough people believe in them or at least can agree on them.

If nobody believes in it then it's nothing more than just sombody else's fiction.

The one and only reality we're constantly living in is that very particular one in each and every single one of our heads. And so it comes that your reality can be just as different from everybody else's as our minds are different from each other's.

I don't mean it in a way like "the table next to you doesn't exist."
That fucking table is physically existing. There's no way around that. You can smell it, feel it, see it. Yet there's a major difference in what people see when they look at a table.
Some see it as wooden thing that you can put stuff on, maybe even step on it when you're putting up the curtains. That's their reality of a table.
Others also see a shield. When the going gets tough in a bar, and glasses come flying your way, then the flipped-over table that you're hiding behind might be the one thing that's standing between you and a bleeding wound on your head.
Have you seen the movie "From Dusk Till Dawn"? A Table, or at least parts of it, can also be used as a weapon.
For Dexter Morgan from the TV show "Dexter" a table is something like an altar. He sacrifices bad people on it in order to calm the need of his "dark passenger".
To me, a table is also an opportunity and alternative, to a bed for instance. (Yes, I'm talking about sex. Duh!)
Yet that's just the reality of some people. Many others might, and most of them probably will, see it very differently. What people see and how they see it isn't even a matter of opinion. It's based on their experience or the lack thereof.

Now that I've mentioned a few of the things of what else a table can be, they have already influenced your reality, like it or not. And depending on whether you believe me or not, a part of my reality might just have become a part of yours as well, may have been a part of yours all along, or you've put it aside considering it a madman's fiction.
Either way, it happens, everytime, everywhere.
We either accept and learn new things, allowing them to become part of our own reality (in case they aren't already), or we refuse them. As we're gathering experience, our reality is constantly shifting.

Yet no matter what you believe in, no matter what you've experienced or not, no matter what you think is real, in the end it only exists in your very own particular mind. Everything you perceive is based on it. The things you understand, you only understand because of the things you think you know.

Now take some, maybe only just a few of those most basic things away and everything around you collapses. Your reality collapses. It's not shifting anymore, it's melting down. Everything that was built on it is put to the torch and you have to watch it burn to the ground.
In particularly bad cases even that ground rips open right underneath you, and all that you thought you'd know is sucked into an abyss.
But it's not really like you're falling into a hole, even though it feels that way for a certain period of time. After a while you begin to realize that it's more like everything around you was consumed by darkness and silence. You're not falling. You're floating, hovering through nothingness with nothing else to see than blackness, consisting of a myriad of unrelated clues which have been put out of context. It's an uncertain, fucked up mess. And there's nothing else to hear than your own desperate cries, begging for clarity.
There are no certain directions, no reference points of any kind. There is no up and down, neither left nor right, not even a definitive wrong or right left. Your don't know what to think. You don't know what to do. You don't know where to go, because there isn't anything there anymore. You feel stranded, lost.
The only thing you do know is what you feel: everything that once was, all at once. And you're alone with it, which makes the feelings all the more powerful.
You've never felt anything like it before. The intensity is mind numbing. You hate it, but it's all you have left, so you also hang on to it in order to try not to completely lose your mind in that emptiness that surrounds you.
...
And even if you manage to see something else behind the darkness again, you will not be able to leave this place for good. That's only because you know now that it exists. When you find some new ground to stand on, you can't accept it as being real, because you've already witnessed just how easy it can vanish. And you know all too well what's waiting beyond, even though you will not be able to remember the full extent of its depths as soon as you step out of the dark, but you know it could be hiding around any corner.
Everything seems to be a lie now.
Nothing has suddenly become real.

This is my reality.

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