“I think, therefore I am.” A dangerous theory that nothing around me really exists, and, if it does, I cannot be sure of its true form. When first introduced to this idea, it was unsurprisingly challenging to accept the suggestion that my reality is not reality. But now I doubt the world that surrounds me.
How can I not? I have been trained to accept the greatest horrors that life has to offer and have become numb to simply endure the day-to-day blur. Whenever something is bothering me, regardless of the extent, I am told not to worry about it. If I am to ignore the stressing issues, then they might as well not exist. And perhaps they really don’t. If I can continue on with my existence without dealing with the problems in the world around me; if I am truly my own real concern, then – perhaps – I am the only real thing.
The complicated part of this concept is what happens to the positive elements in life. By disregarding the bad effects, I cannot fully trust the good, either. Everything has its opposite, and if I remove half of the equation, I ultimately must erase it entirely. But this is a matter of accepting my numbness on a broader scale. And, like rejecting the negative, disbelieving the positive has come gradually. The pain of heartbreak removes love the way death keeps me distant from others as to not lose them in the future. Trusting happiness is to say that it will remain forever. Knowing that everything is ephemeral in one aspect or another, I certainly cannot rely on the world for anything. The reality of my limbo is that the only one or thing that I can rely on to keep me content is myself.
There is a gray area that is my mental dwelling. It is unclear of whether that shadowy place is really in my head, for I am not certain of my physical self. I only know that I exist somehow. And if this is how René Descartes suggests I see the world, then I must temporarily assume that others in their own realities exist the way that they do. If I were to say the people I know do not exist at all – and, for the sake of consistency, perhaps they don’t – then their mysterious concept of real feelings would be hurt. So, for now, they all remain in a neutral zone, a sector of possibilities, waiting to decide the path of their ultimate fate. Whether they choose the negative or the positive, the results would eventually be the same, regardless of how long it takes. In the end, I will leave my reality the same way I entered it: untrusting and unsure of everything. All that is left for others is a numbing memory, fading away enough to question the reality of its existence.