Sometimes the weight of 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 can feel like carrying the world around on your shoulders. It's an itch you can't scratch, a word that's just on the tip of your tongue, but you can't recall it precisely. It's a constant nagging at the back of your mind. It's a feeling of incompleteness. And it's the 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑔 that is going to drive me insane in the end. Because no matter how much you know, how much you learn. How much time you devote to absorbing as much information as your brain can hold, you'll never know everything.
I just have to wonder at it sometimes, marvel at it, really. How some people can be so oblivious to how little they -- we -- really and truly know.
I, myself, would love nothing more than to cut everything open. To simply dissect the universe to see how it works. Analyze every piece of it under a microscope; to understand. Just to understand. To learn. To know.
What is the purpose of metacognition if we cannot use it to divine our own purpose? Why are we alive? Why this planet? Why this galaxy? Why this reality? Where did we come from? Where did our predecessors come from? And don't tell me we all evolved from monkeys. Don't tell me monkeys came from something else, which came from something else, which in turn came from something else that started as an amoeba.
CZYTASZ
Thoughts of An Insomniac
LosoweMy thoughts were my own until I decided to share them. They were not pretty nor understandable by all, but they were in the open for all to pick over.
