Reality is Subjective. . . or is it Realty?
I like to think I invented dipping strawberries in marshmallow cream and roasting them, but I didn't. I don't tell people that some stoner chick told me how to do them. I'm sure she doesn't care. I mean, what she doesn't know won't hurt me, right? If pushed, I'll tell the truth. I Swear!
The other night the thought, "I've built my reality from spare parts I've found laying around" came into my head. It means that we build our respective realities from pieces that we already have, things we might not know what to do with as far as they fit into the collective reality. Does that make sense? It doesn't to me either, at least in the way I've just tried to explain it. I have the idea in my head, but articulation seems light years out of the way. So, I'll leave it at, "I've built my reality from spare parts I've found laying around" and let you decide what that means.
A written piece isn't finished until someone reads it.