I wonder how much of our life is predetermined, and I wonder if we are even capable of altering it. And all our thoughts of "what if" are like rats looking through the glass wall of their maze at the ground far below thinking what if I jumped I could die right now, not realizing that even if I wanted to I couldn't because of the unseen glass wall. The glass wall being each moment passing by and bringing a new person. What i mean is what if everything that happens is allowed, and each moment that passes we lose ourself and find ourself simultaneously and the person that is in memory seems not like us or out of character. because each moment that comes brings a new person who the old person will never know. Thus I have the feeling that the person in my memories is a person different from me now...now...now...now...now...now...now, and each new person continues on the predetermined path unknowingly because the person of the moment hasn't realized they are acting toward what the next momentary person will think.
Interesting. Borges and others like him wondered if we were characters in some other author's stories.
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