I'm alive, right?
Well, yeah, of course I am. What else would I be? I'm not dead...I think. And I don't think I could be walking around like this and talking to people if I weren't alive. Maybe.
But...sometimes I'm not quite sure. Sometimes the world doesn't seem quite as real as it should be, like everything's just a figment of some crazy god's imagination. Hell, even if the world is real that's probably the case. ^_^;
Sometimes I don't feel quite as real as the rest of the world around me. Like maybe there's some layer of reality that just was skipped when I was born, or created. I don't remember being born any more than anyone else does, and I've never met my mom, or dad for that matter. So how am I supposed to know whether I was born, or just came into being shortly before my earliest memories? Or maybe someone created me, and even gave me a set of memories that were all made up to make me think that I was a real person.
Hell, I think that I saw that last idea in a game somewhere. Or maybe it was a book. I don't remember anymore. The point is, how am I supposed to know that that isn't the case? Even if I ask everyone around me, who technically should know whether or not I'm real (unless none of them are any more real/alive than I am), what's to keep them from lying through their teeth when replying?
I don't trust them in general, so why should I trust them this time, when the answer really matters?
Of course, none of this helps me figure out whether I'm real or not. In fact, none of it does anything, but make me go round and round inside of my head, thinking about things that are so far out of my control it's not even funny. And that just makes my head spin after a while. Except that after it's done spinning, it just comes back to the beginning.
Am I alive? And more than that, am I even real?
I may be dead...though I'm fairly sure that's not the case. I may just be a ghost haunting this world after a gruesome death that I've blocked out for fear of having to relive it over and over and over again in my memories. I maybe just be a dream that some tortured child came up with to make himself a little less lonely, only to gain that little bit of life that I needed to exist outside of his imagination.
Or maybe I was right the first time. Maybe I am real. Maybe I am alive. I can't know, but I can't say that it's not a little more reassuring to assume that that is the case and stop worrying about it. Not that that's any fun.
What's the point of life if it's always the answer that makes us feel safe? That seems kinda boring to me. Except that I'm probably the only person who would prefer that in this case. Well, me and every depressed (or convinced that he/she is depressed) goth-wannabe kid out there...
Hell, maybe it's the other way around. Maybe I'm the only one who's real. The only person still alive. And everyone else around me is dead, or just a dream. I'm surrounded by ghosts, or by figments of my imagination who took on a life that I just can't grant to them.
Like that's not been done before, over and over again...