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Enigma Of Realism

Are my thoughts really mind independent or language independent realities? is the dimension I live in ever outside myself?Is it true there is no phenomena without some transcendental operator? By that I mean consciousness. Will I feel this confused forever? Should I just resign myself to the fact Albert Camus was right? Is the struggle to find meaning where none exists absurd?Do I constantly look for order because I have children, and I feel compelled to explain and comfort? Would it have been lusher to have been sucked into a black hole last year? Am I too naturally like:

ENTROPY: nature tends from order to disorder in isolated systems. I agree with Schopenhauer, "the world is the self-knowledge of the will." Is this will the omnipresent instinct of the universe, correlated forces, inducement and dark? urges that are all vigorous yet purposeless, thus dispatching modes of explanation such as reason or logic to absurd status? Who knows? I do know it is the school run time.


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Discombobulated correlation for all like minded braindancers

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