lollipops and cotton candy
Have you guys ever wondered if personality is just a fabrication? Another lame evidence of the human need of continuity? We make up patterns that aren't there, just to make reality seem a tiny bit more logical. What if we're really just products of millions of different faces, actions and memories? Lately I've been feeling like I might not really know anyone. Not even the people closest to me. Is it possible that the whole concept of "knowing" someone is illusory? That we never do? But we trick our brains to think so and we form ourselves after other people's mental "pictures" of us, so we feel like our existence is important? Like it has a meaning?
Don't you just hate it when people come home after 5 months of worldtravelling or a year in Hawaii and claim that they just "discovered themselves"? Like there's some kind of secret treasure in your way of being, some kind of holy Grail that's gonna make you see the world in a different light. Bullshit, I say, most of the times.
Sometimes I feel like I'm spinning around in one of those amusement park carrouselles. I'm sick and I wanna cry or scream, but I can't get myself to stop. I waste ridiculous amounts of time and money and I don't get wiser in any way, but I like it there. The laughter. The illusion of happy people. The speed. The rush. It's a pleasent pain.
