Finality.

Quick aside: I find this post to be a bit of a mood dropper. Next one will be a photo essay or something.

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Let us talk about finality. A quick internet search gives us those:

Noun:	The fact or impression of being an irreversible ending: "the finality of death". A tone or manner that indicates that no further comment or argument is possible.
Synonyms:	end

Yes. Finality. This concept that things end, that things begin. I blame our human minds, and their tendency to categorize things, and even more so I blame the movies and books and stories, that are ment to inspire us to the way the world works. (Exception to this rule, up to a point: Cedric Klapish's works) Yet the image of the world they paint is incorrect. I can see its fallacies, yet I cannot disengage myself from this belief that things are finite, things are distinct, and that for one event to start another one has to end.

I recently read "The Grand Design", by S.Hawkins. That is to say I recently refreshed my memory of physics, and shattered a -thankfully- few misconceptions on the way things work. There is no definitive past, only likely pasts he says. Yet, I stumble back upon my posts, proofs, I hope of my past mental states. I have not changed in the last 5 years. There has been no end to the lack of self-confidence interlaced with boots of megalomania. No more meaning than before, no less-self abuse, no more happiness. I still hunt a dream and not a reality. I still wish for things to be like books. Each time I mentally comprehend that the world does not subscribe to "Save the Cat", yet each time I fervently wish it to did so. There is no finality there.

There is no finality in the world of love either.

This need for finality, is never met. Even death, is not a complete finality, since ripples of our actions, decisions, dreams and hopes propagate in the 10 dimensions forever. We are interconnected, for ever. And yet, we are but probability waves, changing our values to suit the most likely past of an unobservable future.

From my mystical raving I know this. Whenever I felt something in the past, from suicidal, to love, from depressed to overexcited, I felt it truly at that point in time, and lived with its presence overwhelming me. Whatever this feelings intensity might seem now, whatever the reasons behind each one of them were, I cannot deny them, I cannot delude myself into thinking it was all a dream. I still believe I was true at each point in time. I now have, once more, to accept that the intensities I have lived are not the end of my life, and that they lay in the past. There is no end to them, since they will travel forever within me. There is no finality. I will carry my life to the grave and yet my actions, even without an observer, will carry on.