Things are getting murkier by the day.
You see the daylight out side, but it sheds no light at all. Nothing is real, it seems. You just can’t live life the easy way. Everything is a lie. We live in lie and die in it. All through our lives we go on rehearsing lies to lull ourselves and others in to believing in what we don’t actually believe in.
You say you love your girl (or boy or whatever it is). Well you do, in your own way that it. But that is not the point. Feelings are not perennial structures; they change, disappear and absent themselves from your mind some times. Then your loved one comes and asks you.
Don’t you love me?
Your heart is wrung. You are facing emptiness inside you. You can’t feel anything. But you remember those days on which you had felt so full of love that there was nothing else besides it in the world.
And you ask them.
What do you think?
You don’t assert your love; you can’t because that would be dishonest. You just don’t feel that way at that moment. But you can’t also say it out aloud. You side-track and makes the poor partner responsible for what finding the truth out.
They have no option but to assert that you love them. You have led them into a trap. You have parried a direct question and deflected it towards the other person. They may be satisfied with the answer they find for themselves.
Every one likes to live in such lies. We do not want to recognize that there are moments of absolute non-feeling in life. At those moments you often question everything that you have felt in you before that. Is there an ounce of truth in any of those feelings? Did you feel joy and grief at such and such points in your lives?
Are all those some roles in a play? Were you really enacting some roles you had been previously rehearsing? Were those truthful representations of what you felt inside? Yet there are also moments when you forget all else and live in the moment.
I often wonder where our real feelings reside. Or are there any discernible feelings at all. Are all of them fake, everything we live a lie, an adjustment that we make with everything that we encounter? What exactly is our nature? Are we capable of expressing anything beautiful, anything we feel intensely about?
Do we live normal lives anytime? From the moment we wake up we are practicing some sort of dissembling to get through the day.
Is this sophistication, this dissembling, this concealment, this cruel hypocrisy? Hell I too am a part of this giant falsehood where we live dumbly while bad things are happening somewhere in the world. I can only shed crocodile tears on those.
Are these feelings mere chemical reactions that occur when a certain stimuli are there?
Are we machines pre programmed to react in certain ways? It is all very confusing when you try to analyze the things you do with your life and with others. Are these meaningful in any manner, all that you do?
Well I can’t tell for sure. There might be sublime souls who are capable of doing that.
Or are there?
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