Tumblr is a strange thing. Our need to share and communicate is a strange thing.
Getting excited about things we have not yet experienced is a strange thing. We cannot experience everything, which is a disappointment. One thing seen or done or mastered is another we leave unseen, undone, unmastered.
Getting excited about things we've already experienced is a strange thing. We continue to feel the same things about the same things even though we already know they exist and we had them. The feelings may change but nonetheless they repeat themselves.
Being alive is a strange thing.
We will die, and I'm hard-pressed to believe that love is strong enough to let us willfully ignore it. We love our spouses, so we work hard to provide. We love ourselves, so we commit to making things better. We love our children, so we try to avoid making the world (their world or the world at large) a worse place for them to live. But we will die. Our spouses will die. And our children will die. They will no longer exist in that world we made for them. They will have children, whom we may never meet, and they will die as well, so our only connection to this world (beyond some genes we inherited then passed on) ceases to exist and so our work is moot, for we are no longer conscious to witness its result, nor our children, nor our children's children.
Yet we keep going. We believe in something more, and so we are able to keep going.
Some believe in the fight, some in a meta-reality (a being or some other force of power), and all in feelings (love, responsibility, hatred, appetite, emptiness, fear). We don't know which is true, so we trust these feelings, follow our intuitions, and continue.
I am either beyond all things. Or mirror-boxed-in at square one, destined to escape....never.
But anyway, this is the reality of human nature. And it is a strange thing.
