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Literature

The Hivemind of Chaos

You are all but figments of my maddening imagination. And yet, I am but a figment of everyone else's imagination. We are a self-driving machine of chaotic, discordant thoughts that fuel themselves and that fuel each other. Do I understand how it works? No. Do you understand how it works? Maybe a little. Can it ever be fully understood? Not a chance. Our reality never truly can be understood. Every answer only brings two more questions. Every revelation only drives us further into doubt. The only certainty is the lack of any certainty. It can be frustrating. It can be dispiriting. And yet, we carry on. We cannot know everything, and we need not to. Some questions are not meant to be answered, so we can spend that time answering other queries. Some things are better left to be pondered, to be unknown, to drive us to imagine and to design. Reality is the one firm, unchanging thing we know, and yet it is the most malleable of things in that every action we take