Too many questions

Are we all merely migrating fragmentations of thought? What exactly does it mean to be human? Can we attempt to achieve meaning in a world full of incongruity and contradictions? How can I reconcile my knowledge of all the distant and disparate realities that are happening right now in the world along with my own, as well as those of every person spanning back all the way through history?

If perspective is a construct, can anything we see be real or is it only illusory? What is time if no-one is there to count it? Can anything elude interpretation and definition? What is an object when it is isolated from everything that would detract from its own evaluation of itself? How can I ever capture or experience the true nature of anything if it does not exist in the first place?

Can I ever even have an original idea? How many people have wondered about these questions before me? What answers did they find? Did, like me, they draw blank? Who lives and understands why? Who do you think you are? Is identity bound up in self-exhibition, or the things we exclude from view? Are these too many questions for you? Am I only tormenting myself? Why do I think so deeply about things? Should I stop?

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