We are actors

It’s interesting to know that, everyone I see, that they are not who they think they are, that… everyone has so much depth… depth they cannot even perceive themselves. Because the person we project to the world, that voice in our head — it is only a manifestation of the forces that lies beneath our consciousness, hidden away in a black box whose contents is a nebulous swirl of infinite complexity, bits of which escape through the seals and fill our hearts and minds like gas takes up an empty space. That gas is imbued with emotions and intentions and thoughts which can be either fleeting or obsessive ruminations, and yet we are oblivious of this gas that persists everywhere, all the time. Our actor breathes, lives, and swims in it, and without it, we are directionless husks (actual research shows) that cannot complete simple day-to-day activities.

But we cannot peer into our black box and interpret its complexities — we may only study our actions and feelings and work backwards to understand the director behind the curtains who guides us.

This doesn’t mean we are at the mercy of our director’s script — when our actor becomes aware that she is performing under a veil of free-will — while she cannot completely be rid of the veil — she can pierce holes in opportune areas and reach out to play a bigger role, sometimes overriding the director, taking actions that surprise and affect the path of the screenplay, and begin writing bits of the script herself.

Again, the first step being aware that we are merely actors in ourselves.

This was written for project 365, where I was formerly writing everyday. Now I’m just lazy and write occasional bullshit.