Keeping it unreal
Most of the things we trust don’t really exist. They reside inside our skulls thanks to our tendency to be sentimental any given moment…
Most of the things we trust don’t really exist. They reside inside our skulls thanks to our tendency to be sentimental any given moment. Such ‘things’ can be countries, gods, corporations, theories, etc. depending on who you are talking to. (Side note: If anything depends on who you’re talking to, don’t talk.) If i ask you what is India, you’ll probably tell me that it’s our country. I’ll agree with you, of course, but not without encouraging you to accept recorded history. What is India today wasn’t what it meant a century ago. If you go further down in history, India meant an altogether different thing to those European explorers struggling to find a seaway. Gods forbid if we end up doing to ourselves what Yugoslavians did to themselves 25 years ago, India would mean something else in the future. Speaking of gods, they are there only because we want them to. Neither is there a necessity otherwise nor a proof. The same principles apply to the corporate world, temples of thoughts and actions: people believe in something not because it’s true but because they want to. Being a Liverpool fan, i’d feel great whenever the crowd wails ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ in unison but if i ask myself some pertinent questions about its origin and relevance, i’ll end up accepting the truth that i am as alien to the club as Liver bird is to ornithology. Like i mentioned earlier, it’s all inside my skull. What i choose to believe and what i reject define me, not the other way around.
Which brings us to a thought that has been lingering in the garden of my empty head for some time now.
Do souls exist? I don’t know and so don’t you. Do ghosts exist? Well, there are movies on ghosts — poor souls, nobody cares about them — so they exist at least on the big screen and by extension, in our minds. There’s a reason why you are freaking scared when the door creaks at night. (Side note: Thank you, wind.) Coming back to my thought, i was wondering what will happen if i die and get promoted to a ghost. One thing’s for sure: I’ll suck at horror. On the contrary, given my penchant for orderliness, i think i’ll be that unique ghost who cleans up others’ mess in the house. You left the coffee mug on the table? I’ll place it in the sink before the stains turn into bio-hazard. You forgot to turn off the geyser? I’ll press the button as noiselessly as possible. Your clothes are lying on the floor? They won’t when you come back. You get the idea. I shall be spooky and fuck with the matters inside your skull but in a much nicer way.
PS. Don’t you wish there were ghosts who would slap the living daylights out of those who spit/piss/molest in public? Well…