“Why do you feel this way?”
Why do we feel at all?
Do feelings even serve a purpose?
And if yes, what purpose would that be?
What does it all mean?
The love, the yearning, the hurt,
the agony of rejection and the peace of a fullfilled dream?
What would we be without the feeling and the pain?
Mere satelites, monads without windows.
I wonder if Leibniz ever thought of Individuality this way.
I strongly doubt it. But let’s give it a moment.
What if the shared feeling was the only thing to connect us,
the only thing that allows us to really position ourselves,
define what we are and who we are?
Seems like a simple common place, no?
Just as common as we all…
And what about those moments where you write yourself
into a mood you haven’t really dreamt of being in to start with?
Is it a revelation, or rather a change of spirit?
Right into the wall with a speed of 200kmh…
What if you’re not just subjected to the feelings,
but you’re actually the one to make them?
Would that change anything?
I bet it wouldn’t…
… real is what you make out of it.
… real is whatever has meaning to you.
… real is whatever future you covet.
… real is different.
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