Sometimes I wonder what is inside of me. I have my organs, my blood running through my veins, but so does everybody. There has to be a distinction between me and you, beyond any genes. The things that make my soul ache and my heart tremble, they wouldn’t phase you. Maybe that’s the distinction, the answer is in the question. My passions make me different.
There is no way that we are simply just a product of science. The older I get the more I realize that we are more than just a brain and body. We have the ability to desire anything we want in the world. Our mind is complex and we have no limits to the realm of our thoughts. Science is making your hand move, but our mind creates the picture we paint.
Our mind is the epitome of infinity. What does that even mean? I can’t even tell you what infinity is, but I know I have my own infinity right inside my head. And you have yours too. Infinity is all different shapes and sizes, molded by everyone’s experiences in the world they live in. The world itself is even an infinity. My world is something you’ll never even see, and I’ll never see yours either.
Going back to the beginning, I still wonder what is inside of me. I am my infinity, but what the hell is that? Having so much space in our minds creates room for demons to enter. That negative thought always surfaces and the bad intentions get the best of us all. I get sick of always fighting to know who I am, but that’s the whole reason we are here I guess. We are made to grow and change, to never understand, but be content with it anyways.
Even though I only have my little infinity, I have access to question everything in yours. I can dive into the minds of those around me just as you can. We should be thankful for such a wide range of knowledge to sift through, but we all take it for granted. How shallow are we to never ask about the passions of our friends? I’m asked about the homework due tomorrow, but never about the emotions I feel when I play piano. My writing gets joked about, but no one asks where I get the ideas behind the piece. Sharing your passions can never be shallow, but not trying to understand someone else’s passions defines shallowness perfectly. What side are you on?
I guess the whole point I am trying to get at is that we will never capture in words our own infinities. The best way to understand our mind is to let it flow freely through us and out of us. All the passions we have are gifts that no one can silence even during the hardest attempts. Inside of me is a person full of unknown passions, depths of questions, constellations of thought, and an infinity nobody will ever understand.
