The Symmetry of Sorrow (Excerpt Five)

Cogito, Ergo Sum. I think therefore I am. Rene Descartes proves existence through this simple phrase.
If there is an "I" to question it's own existence the mere process of examination proves the answer to be true. But what is existence? We can think, therefore we exist. The question is, more importantly, in what capacity do we exist? Is everything excluding our own thought just an elaborate illusion created for some unknown purpose? Are others real or just a trick, a figment of imagination?
Could all we perceive be a hoax, a harsh Matrix-esque reality waiting to be discovered?
Or is everything exactly as we see it? Are memories truly what they seem? Do we exist outside of this very moment, a fleeting flash in the macrocosm of the Universe? I do not know the answers. I likely never will.
It is a reassuring thought, to live in a peaceful oblivion. Where truth and lies intermingle. Pain and happiness can coexist. And we can enjoy or shun the company of others.
If life is a grand lie would we really wish to know the truth? I would rather live and die in a schizophrenic world of tumultuous love and hate than learn the truth of an existence that may be much worse. I embrace the fragile thing I know as the world; as harsh and cruel as it can be.