The stories I tell myself
Muse #441 - vivid imaginations
I tell myself a lot of stories every day. Construct them from a variety of things. Something akin to looking at the clouds in the sky and trying to make sense of these patterns and figure out whether they mean something. Something from nothing.
Yesterday, as usual, I played the daily Wordle and Quordle. And the Quordle was interesting. In my own quirky way, I started both games with the seed word “HEART” being the one-year anniversary of my heart surgery. The first word ended up being “DEATH” derived from the previous word. And the other three words ended up being “HOLLY”, “BLEED”, and “APHID”. My brain being what it is ended up piecing these words into a story. I am going to die of a bleeding heart on some holiday and will be eaten by Aphids. Or I might be so popular that they would make it a holiday when I die. Wishful thinking indeed.
The brain is spectacular in making up these narratives out of thin air. Of course, these words are at best a coincidence aligning with my event yesterday. And events and calendars and counts are made up as well, as we care about these things and we love to keep count. As if that matters. If you change the scale and zoom out far enough, our whole lives are but a blip, if at all.
Thankfully I am not a believer in astrology, fortune-telling, or tarot card narratives. I am fully capable of making up my own without any help or spending on these activities. Just wanted to share one of the stories that I go through every day. Thousands of such biases and constructs are possibly triggered daily by various things around us or for no reason at all by our subconscious. Strange beings, we are… we humans!