• Life; an aggregation of strings in the fabric of existence.
    As weary as It may be, the doubt still remains. What defines reality as a whole? How does one define what is real? Perhaps It is what we see, what we feel. What we touch and thrive for. Our emotions and personalities, conjured from one single or collection of thoughts. Thoughts? No.. For to think is what makes us rational beings. What makes us human and inhumane. But are we real, or are we not? Are these feelings and emotions just another act, concocted by lies and images? Are we really alive? Or just dormant? Do we live?

    We perceive images and take them as reality. As something that is there, and always will be. And those very images compose the symphony of Life. Nothing else but reality, written solely by whoever perceives it, in their own way. Oh life.. adulterous. Even dreadful, but yet in all of It's might, we still persist on living. Why is that? Why do we live in reality? Perhaps life is a series of goals, after all. But what defines a goal? If by definition goal means objective, then what objective do we have but to live life? And to live, not knowing what It means, is something everyone must go through. Real or not, we are still here.

    Nevertheless, could it be that this is really reality? But If so, how does one describe what we feel, what we see? Do we live in the same world or are we just transients in a vessel. Are we real? Do we live? Is there life? Tell me, oh pale moon in the dark endless sky. Are you real?
    I hope to come to grasps with the definition of reality, one day. What it means to live. What it means to exist and coexist with others. For to live is something so mysterious.. and yet so immense, that It takes a lifetime to take a simple notion of what It means. What results in the end of this reality? One day, It will be revealed, I suppose.
    But until then, life is all we have. And we must keep living. For life may be reality after all.

    -Deadly and Silent.