One of the weirdest ideas that I’ve come across in
philosophy is the idea that we really don’t exist. We are simply a physical manifestation of
someone’s imagination, our lives just a dream of God’s.
WHAT?! I’ve never
thought that way, because I don’t like the idea. Straight up… the idea that my life is
virtually nothing, and I am completely unimportant in the scheme of things is
that worst scenario I could come up with.
Because without existence, there is no purpose, and without purpose,
there is no fulfillment. And if that’s
the case, I may as well give up everything I ever thought to be important.
If I don’t exist, then I lose all hope of making something
of my life. Maybe it makes me a bad or
incomplete philosopher, but I refuse to accept that possibility.
Okay, it’s definitely
possible, but it’s also not the idea I choose to believe. My Christian background leads me to believe
that our lives are a reflection of God and His vision, but we are not simply in
his mind. Our lives are real, and they
mean something. It may be selfish and
egotistic, but I want to believe that I am real and worth something to the
world.
But I did as Aristotle said an educated mind would, and
entertained the thought. I just won’t
accept it.
If my passion is clouding my reason, let that be my
downfall, because I refuse to believe that I am nonexistent.
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