Hi, my name's S. No wait, it's not. Maybe it's both.
| Let me start off by explaining that I'm not insane. No, on the contrary; I'm mentally healthier than a new-born.
But what, exactly, is it to be insane? Is it to hallucinate? Is it to repeat the same tasks over and over again? To know what insanity is, we must first decide what sanity is, what normality is.
To be normal is to feel love. To be normal is to feel safe, to feel sane. To be normal is not to stick out of the crowd, but merely to follow the masses in a great, grey system of ever-rotating cogs. Once in a while, those cogs will start to squeal. But, faster than you know, someone will grease it, and the cogs will return to their normal functionality, without any indication of them ever having a problem.
My name is S... Wait, does it even matter? A name is only a word we give to items we interact with a lot. And one couldn't say that you and I will be interacting a lot. On the contrary, I will be spilling out words upon words, sentences upon sentences, on these pages, and you will merely read them, think about them, and then forget them before they ever carve as much as a scratch in your psyche. Because that's how we humans work; we remember things we feel are important and dear to us, and quickly forget everything else. Did you know that the human memory is divided into three sectors; a sensory memory of only a couple of seconds, a read-only memory of maybe double the length, and a long-term memory of immeasurable length; and that we cycle through these sectors without ever really noticing it?
But, if you'd rather I have a name, you can just call me S.
Now that we're familiar, I could tell you about my past, my present, and possibly my future. I could explain to you how I grew up, where I studied, and which of my childhood memories affected my rational self. But you're no psychoanalyst, are you? You don't need to know all that. You wouldn't even process it, but merely dig through those words, as if they were an obstacle in your journey for your destiny. Fun choice of words, by the way. Destiny. Is the definition of destiny not what is written in our books, way before we get to the final chapters? And still, I find that destiny is the perfect word for the occasion; everyone talks about it, everyone wants to achieve it. Even though its proper definition states that it has been written in beforehand, decided without our consent.
I don't believe in destiny. I can't comprehend how one would think that there would be a higher being, a greater force, which decides how it all will end, even before it begins. That somewhere, in some greater cosmic plane, there is an epic of great knowledge, stating how everyone's life will play out, how everyone will die. No, I believe we make our own paths, cruel as it may be. We dig our own holes, and so it is our task to get ourselves out of these holes. A trench doesn't just appear, a trench is dug, by human hand.
But I feel I've digressed. What were we talking about? Oh yeah, about being normal.
As stated, I don't believe I'm insane. But I also don't believe I'm normal. Would any normal person write like this, jumping from topic to topic, not knowing where the road goes? Wait... I guess they would. But does everyone do this?
Maybe one could say that it is normal to be different. That it is normal to stand out. But then again, what does that make the mentally ill; they stand out, they differ from the machine. Are they normal?
What if we'd just agree to disagree? That being normal is not normal, and that the difference between normal and special is both non-existent and infinitely large? Does that even make sense? Does it have to make sense? Our world; the one we on one hand cherish and nourish, on the other hand pillage and destroy; does not make sense. Sure, we might try to explain it, with the help of science. And don't get me wrong, I have nothing against science. But how can we really explain why the sun rises every morning and sets every evening, how a flower is sown, grows and withers, and how a race like humanity can live on this planet? How do we know all this? Is empirical data the definite truth?
You've probably heard of quantum mechanics. A core principle in it is that we, as the observer, decide the outcome. Before our observing, the item in observation is in a superposition of two states; existent and non-existent; but when we observe it, it chooses one of the two states for us. So what if this is the core principle in everything in existence? What if these pages, while you're not seeing them, both exist and don't exist, and then, when you find them in your bookshelf, choose to exist after all? What is there to stop them from not existing, from simply disappearing from existence?
I feel I've overused the word existence, so let's talk about something else.
Oh yeah, we were analyzing destiny. Or actually, I was analyzing it. You're simply repeating my words in your head, trying to understand them. But, since we aren't the same person, you will never understand them. One could even state this to be written in the stars, to be decided by destiny before our births. But didn't we...I just come to the conclusion that I don't believe in a destiny? What did we, in fact, state? If you just returned from checking out the earlier segment about destiny, I have to frown upon you. You obviously forgot about my stating that there are three memory sectors. Or do you simply not know how to control them? I mean, metacognition is a hard thing to master, but try. Try to learn your weaknesses, and train yourself to recognize them when needed. It will turn out for the better, I promise you. That's what I've been doing, the past seventeen years.
Oh, did I hint at something there? Is it important? Did your opinion about my writing change because of that hint? If it did, how? And why? Why do you feel to change your opinion based on a simple number, a series of letters that represent a two-digit marking? More importantly, to what did your opinion change? What if I'd tell you, those seventeen years are since I graduated? Does your opinion change again? Seriously, decide what you think about me.
Do you remember what I said in the beginning? And don't cheat by turning the pages back. Be honest, do you remember? If not, perhaps you're still not getting it. Remembering is only half the battle, the other one is accepting. And, because this battle is in a superposition between two states, we might also state understanding and processing to be the two other halves. But didn't mathematics teach us there are only two halves in a whole? So what do we do with the other two? I think, and this is just my interchangeable opinion, that the other two halves make a whole, and those two wholes can be halves of a greater whole. See what I'm getting at?
Let's turn back to metacognition. The word, by definition, means the skill to understand and process one's own learning capabilities, and to be able to change between different models of learning depending on the circumstances. But don't you think it is the manifestation of something greater? The word, in itself, might be something greater, something beyond our comprehension. Maybe metacognition writes our destiny, which actually doesn't exist, but still resides in a superposition, ready to take on the world if needed? What if the greater force, which drives our reality, is our reality, and our ability to comprehend and change it? What if opinions are created when this force turns, and destroyed when it turns to a third state?
I'm not mental. I just find small things that work up my conscience, that make me think. And isn't thinking what differentiates us from every other living creature; the ability to create our own realities, without having a destiny which meddles in our cause?
My name, which probably never was needed, is S. But it is also a manifestation of something greater, of something that's me.