tied up in a parawad

It seems to me that a schizophrenic person could probably understand reality better than a normal person because he can get two perspectives.  A more unimaginative person will never know if the world he sees is some elaborate day dream as he shifts outward on the mundane spiral of routine towards death.  If my life was just a dream and I woke up in another world,  would I forget it?  and if I didn't,  would I write it down? 

and after a lifetime of writing,  would I even want to?

It seems like all my memories are composed of fragments that jump from scene to scene.  Once I was playing with a toy,  next I am looking at fish in a pond.  Then comes the explanation of how the entire day unfolded,  but only sparse details of the exciting things.  Is this not how my brain systematically recovers my dreams?  Maybe every night I sleep is a day I wake in another time.  What is the difference between times and places when each one is constantly changing?  Without the sun we have no concept of time,  no concept of change or weather.

 Without light there is no distinction of darkness and same of light.  Could the automatic processes of life exist independently of these traits?  What classifies life?  death maybe?  Matter has energy,  matter has movement.  There is no true pattern to how it organizes itself,  an ink drop in water makes a different pattern every time but it always sinks.  Life is a pocket of order in chaos,  like any pocket of order it doesn't last.  Like a brief spiral in a river. Life is classified by patterns and repetition.

But do we really die? Even after the heart stops beating the brain is still alive.  Even after all our tissue dissolves the energy in the particles still exists.  Maybe life is what eats the energy of the universe,  maybe life is what recycles it. 

So long as there is matter there is life,  so long as there is energy there is matter,  what begets energy?  Is it life?  Is existence a constant rock, paper, scissors match?   Entropy has always seemed like an optimistic situation to me,  everything just simply burns out right?  Left to be the coals of a long dead fire pit in the mountains.  Is the universe just a program opened on a laptop without a charger?  The overall entropy and decay of the universal battery.  Or maybe it is a division of labor, where energy can take over while matter rests,  the great journey to nowhere.  I hope that the human race doesn't last long enough to realize we weren't progressing to some great end to all means.  Maybe evolution is the inevitable taking of turns for species in this limitless microcosm.  Is the universe only our little pleasant self sustaining cube or is it more like a house of a naive child being fed electricity, gas,  and water from a seemingly limitless supply? 

I'm glad that by discovering that matter cannot be created or destroyed we didn't in fact start destroying a part of the universe that could never be returned.  But the flaw of this rule is that it doesn't factor in duplication,  what if it wasn't created but rather grew unto itself?   It doesn't take a genius to realize that ourselves and the world we see around us is ruled by concepts and definitions,  awareness and intelligence are created from a mutual consensus of belief.  Instinct was born from the unordained consensus to survive and reproduce. Instict flourished when that consensus became mutual.  Love is survival,  if we work together we survive.  Love will never die so long as death is stalking behind it,  much similar to a fuse that cannot stop because of its own volition.  Love says, "let's go until the bomb explodes."  the ultimate fuck until death.  In all reality a limited universe means limited questions,  but only one conclusion;  we are trapped.