Am I my brain?
Is this I the thoughts in me? But where are these thoughts? In my head? But my head contains blood and tissue. These neurons? Am I these neurons? Am I just a phenomenon emanating from the interconnection of neurons? But if that is so, why is there nothing like my mind? Why is there nothing like my consciousness in this whole world? Why can't I reproduce even a small thing of my mind in the real world? My mind is a continuous stream of thought? Why is everything discontinuous around me?
Is Life a Dream?
What is this consciousness? Where is this consciousness located? In the head? Why is there nothing like consciousness in this world? Or what is the world for that matter? What is this outside of me? Why is the outside more real than the inside of my mind? Where is the proof that the outside is more real? I can touch, taste, and smell it, is that the proof? But what if it's all magic; some char. An evil enchantment. In dreams, we taste, smell, and touch things but when we wake up, they are not there? Everything is gone. What if everything that is outside us will be gone like a dream when we die? poof! And we wake up with nothing but us.
To be or not to be
What is our struggle here? Why is there any struggle at all? Is it because we want to live? But why do we want to live? Because it is pleasurable? Because it is satisfactory? Because it is freedom? And death? Death is a prison of nothingness? Death is like being unable to see, smell, touch, taste, and THINK? Death is like being no interconnection between different parts of your body? Will this mind be really gone when we will die? How is that possible? A mind which can think infinity. A mind which can think of eternity. Will such a mind be gone? Is our mind finite? If it is finite, how can it think about the infinite? How can something become what its parts never are and never will be? How can something give what it doesn't have to begin with? How can something come out of nothing?