The Chaotic Existence Of Ophelia

October 12th, 2015

Ophelia. My name is something that does not specifically excite me in itself yet I am immediately alert when it dances off of the tongue of another. It is something that I am ever so tired of hearing, yet to everyone that has encountered me significantly, defines my entire existence. Little do they know that almost everything I am exists invisibly in the exquisite form of my thoughts. I am not just my Physical Being, I am also my Mental Spectator. These are both hypothetical, yes, but also very real.

For all of the time that I spend thinking about life and the world and philosophy you'd think I'd be less clueless. But then again if you regard the majority of the population of the world, or however much it is, they are clueless even more so, having spent even less time than I have.

Before you are to understand this story you must understand this; the human mind is beautiful, there is no doubt about that, but when it is not exercised to the full extent of its potential, it seems to be a waste to those who have almost reached the full extents of their mindscape. Those who have have realized that thoughts like these can come crashing down on themselves and though these people have discovered their ability to fully explore the vast ocean of deep thought, there is an inevitable sadness that comes with it, because this ocean is cold and lonely, and the chill of the waves is powerful to set in.