It is 3:30 am, I have to get to the school at 9:00 tomorrow.
And I can't sleep for some reason. been in a dazed sort of state since an hour in the darkness, waiting for sleep to claim me, once again. I love her even though she is fickle, for she always comes to me.
I was thinking maybe, everyone creates his own little reality, maybe the Nihilists were right, maybe there is absolutely nothing, and existence is pointless in the traditional sense. Yet paradoxically, there is a point. The point is, to create your own reality, with your own fears, your own gods, your own reasons.
A man who believes in god, believes in the fact that his 'god' watches him, and will reward his deeds, however when he dies, he stops existing, he sleeps that long sleep and never wakes up. His reality dies with him. Yet, his reality would mean the very substance on which the man would live on.
In Chuck Palahniuk's 'reality', his god kills off people, when they got too boring or too predictable. And when he dies, his reality will die with him.
In an artist's reality, his art might mean his 'god', he might strive to acheive perfection, get as close to god as he can by taking his art to the very limits of his talent. And then he dies. His reality dies with him.
So, in this sense I am really a Nihilist.
I would have normally waited till tomorrow to write this article, but I didn't want to adulterate the feeling with excess thought.
I didn't want to sell out.
This is my reality.
My very own reality.
A waking Lucid Dream.
It is mine to do, as I wish.