What is human thought? If thoughts can neither be seen nor heard how do we know they exist? How can one begin to classify thought, human reason or conscience? The matter being we ourselves must not exist if that which we are made of lives within its own existence. Humans are made of organs, which are made of cells, who have organelles, made of molecules which are made of atoms. Thousands of cells, living with their own purpose of life molds the human body, so what is it that gives us our conscience? Is it a higher power, god perhaps? Though, no material proof has ever been discovered. If conscience comes from nothing, nothing is a state of being, or something. Though, everything comes from conscience. A theological trinity; at least, a thought. The irony of the matter is the disturbing addiction to a religious probability often times, in the Christian word, revolves around the Holy Trinity. Both beliefs merely thoughts and neither proven. Yet one must conclude that everything comes from a conscience, which comes from nothing, meaning everything comes from nothing. What about emotions? Are emotions a state of being? Human reason dictates that we are separate from our emotions; there is a distinct contrast of the physical state of being to the state of human conscience. And yet it is emotion that dictates our actions. Pain, anger and agony are all physically felt yet simultaneously they are an element of conscience. And it is here that religious probability meets its flaw. Emotions, a psychological state of mind must be a physical state of being to cause physical effects: effects in which I, myself acted upon and suffered the repercussions.
Half the time, I can't logically understand what I am feeling, let alone know where to derive such feelings. Ironically, I constantly try to think logically about everything in order to find an analytical interpretation dictated by reason and logic. This "process" I follow, this "intellectual" scheme to which I am always so loyal, ends up alienating me from those that I love, or at least, the one person I love. I can sit here and know deep down that I need to let go of whatever discrepancy that is catalyzing my instability in emotions. And yet, there's a protruding, echoing voice within my head, telling me how insignificant and unimportant I am: how no one could ever love me: how I will never be worth anything and therefore should be cast into a reality of isolation and solitude. That's the reality of it all - isolation and solitude. This world of love and compassion I'm living is merely the fantasy, with the reality being coerced into the most abysmal depths of my subconscious corroboration. And yet it claws, and scratches, and fights its way out; leaving wounds along the way.
It kills me knowing I have the sweetest man who loves me more than anything in this world; in his eyes I'm the most beautiful woman who will ever live. But yet I belittle his emotional expressions into falsities and pathetic sympathies.
It kills me that I try to think logically about my depressions; knowing that emotions are mere intangible matter - therefore not even matter at all. They are not physical entities and therefore shall elicit no physical effects and have no directional bearing over my body, mind, or soul. And yet, when night falls, the tears pour down like rain - what is more physical than the cold, chilling feeling of a teardrop landing on your skin? How it falls down and the moment it breaks into a million smaller tears you can actually see all the pain and sorrow trapped within those now hollow, salty waters.
As if some higher power wants to sarcastically taunt me with my illogical emotional turmoil, I still follow these attempts at intellectual reasoning to place an understanding on that which I cannot understand. Everything, everything we know and accept as knowledge are centuries-long opinions widely believed. Every single bit of information labeled as factual is an opinion of someone before us who was able to manipulate and persuade those around him to have just as much faith as he. Everything comes from the conscience, which comes from nothing. If we all are made of the same structured cells then why do we think differently? And within these differences of thought, why are certain patterns labeled as normal and others as faulty and broken? Why am I labeled as broken? Everything comes from thought, which comes from nothing, therefore, transitive theory states everything comes from nothing. The Trinity of Life. And even further scrutinized, everything is nothing. I am nothing - which completely contradicts my entire psychological motif I've been trying to disprove. The trinity of life is a bitch. And Edward, I am sorry I'm broken.
