Aug 4, 2025

Ah, this “I.” Can’t stop thinking. We measure everything by ourselves. Even when we don't truly know ourselves, we wrap others' thoughts in the morality we’ve built. Just to say "in my opinion," just to mean “this is what I think”…

I haven’t felt at ease ever since I started thinking about the “I.” Ever since I put myself at the center of my life. Or maybe, ever since I realized that the only thing at the center of my life… is me. Egocentrism is freedom. Though, it’s not even centrism. It's self-ism. Maybe there’s no word that fully matches what I mean. I don’t want to fit into general definitions. Let me explain it directly. Why I don’t feel I belong to any ideology.

That’s how I began forming my own philosophy. Ever since I started discovering myself... I just want you to think — how would you live, if only you existed?

I don’t think this applies only to me or that it should. Yes, if you ask, I do see it as a necessity. I believe everyone should become an “I,” should discover their “I.” If I’ve created my own conscious phenomenon, of course I feel the need to dominate with it.

Originality, uniqueness — it’s in our nature.
Our patience, our impatience, in expressing thoughts…

A person doesn’t just stop at saying “Who am I?” They wander through the corridors of memory. That’s what discovery is. When one realizes there is no absolute right or wrong, that there is no universal morality, that’s what I call true awareness. And yes, the “I” says I will exist. Or rather, “how do I exist?” In the end, everyone builds their own morality. To me, morality should be individual. Free and conscious. If you’re influenced by someone else and aware of it — that awareness, too, is freedom.

Why do I see it as a necessity? Because we measure everything by ourselves. Am I the only one who wants to be like this?

As long as I’m not “I,” nothing is real. There is no time, no action, no objects.

Since I started doing this, for example, the question “Does this person love me?” has been replaced with “Why do I love this person?” A question far more complex, one I can’t find my way out of. Let me take it a bit further; when I see a historical building, I ask: “This was built centuries ago, but was it built for me? What do I take from it?” Or: “Why did my ancestor who lived centuries ago save me?” These questions started to take hold. Not “I want her to love me,” but “I choose to love her.” That’s a comfort that can’t be explained.

The “I” is hard to explain. After all, I’ve long believed the subconscious is our ultimate end.

This world taught me that meaning is a product of our subconscious. At the end of the day, Earth is just a planet, and we are its inhabitants. One day, we’ll vanish. Isn’t the real question: “How did I live?”

Because no matter how much objective knowledge surrounds us, the only thing I can be sure of is what I know. Unless I assign the meaning, everything is meaningless. This world — this reality — is the product of my subconscious.

That’s why to be able to say “I loved” is greater than being loved.
To hate is greater than being hated.
To be angry is more real than someone being angry with you.
To hide is nobler than unveiling a mystery.

If the reason for an action comes from someone else, doubt is always there. No matter how certain the outcome seems, doubt — which has no opposite — becomes a form of slavery to someone else's morality. Belief in God is like this too. Doubtful. If you think certainty is the opposite of doubt, think again. Nothing is absolute. Everything is just nearly certain. True freedom is being aware of your own actions and thoughts. True morality arises from the awareness of one’s own consciousness.

Here’s an extreme example:
If we kill someone, will we truly know they’re dead?
If we hurt someone, can we ever know if they’re really hurt?
If we love someone, can we be sure they feel loved?

Even if we asked them, would we believe them entirely?

Can you truly act based on someone else's action, while skepticism exists?
If we kill, we kill for ourselves. Doesn’t the instinct to survive come from me? If I didn’t exist, who would kill me?

Aren’t fascist ideas, after all, built on the instinct of survival?

That’s why we must act according to our own consciousness — knowing that thoughts and actions will change. As cruel as it may be, time is beyond us. It drives us forward. Our consciousness is freed through accepting this bondage. Time shapes conditions, conditions shape our actions and thoughts. Our character shows how we represent our phenomenon and morality when situations require us.

It’s foolish to think of others’ thoughts and actions. But intelligence too is shaped by circumstances. Presenting intelligence as a fixed trait makes me nauseous. If someone calls you smart, sure, take it as a compliment. But how intelligent you are in that moment depends entirely on your own judgment.

Those unaware of their consciousness cannot create phenomenon or morality. Those who are aware — they dominate themselves. How paradoxical! For those who cannot be themselves, their subconscious submits to those who can. Accepting someone else’s ideology with your own consciousness is another matter. Words deceive. The details beneath words are seen only by those who perceive with their own awareness.

Throughout history, countless philosophies and ideologies have driven people to action. As time passes, we can analyze the reasons behind our actions. The answer to “Why did you do it?” is: “I don’t know yet — I’ll learn.” Do we take an umbrella because it’s raining? Or because we don’t want to get wet? Or because we think getting wet will make us sick?

Of course, I don’t believe overthinking is necessary either. We act. Thinking about why comes later, doesn’t it?

Those who are aware of their consciousness — those who have analyzed how time has changed them — they find peace. What is peace? For me, it’s awareness of one’s own consciousness. When you think about someone’s actions, someone you believe has wronged you, it breeds the stupidity we call hate. If someone acts toward you — even if you ask them — can you ever be sure? No! We imagine. Hate is ignorant wisdom. But to forgive someone is not about whether they are forgivable. It’s about accepting that their actions and feelings can never truly be understood — and deciding how you will act based on your own judgment. If you hate, don’t say “because they did it,” say “because I hate when someone acts this way.” But those who set rigid rules for themselves — aren’t they the ones who resist change anyway?

Suppose someone killed a loved one of yours. You’ll find thousands of meanings behind that act. But truly, the stupidity lies in believing there’s meaning at all. Stupidity is treating doubt as certainty. You may hate. You may grieve. But what does the real you do? That’s the question. If you kill that person, it must be with your own consciousness. Not because they did something to you. You can’t justify their action — only your own. That’s how forgiveness is born. Even if you know they might kill you too. Maybe because that’s who you are.

Of course, these are hypothetical. Like I said, everyone discovers themselves. I don’t want to make presumptuous examples without facing the situations. Maybe one must fall into delusion. Maybe you do have to kill them. But if you analyze yourself afterward, again you’ll reach the conclusion that it meant nothing. Because if the reason came from their action, you’ll feel immoral.

I’m sure of my thoughts — for now. I find myself in a tremendous limbo. If anyone has an answer or suggestion, I’ll listen. No one can deny that both their ideas and themselves change. And as I said before, we’re all under the rule of time. Still, as we construct ourselves — just to be able to say “this is me” — life is a journey toward understanding what it truly means to be an “I.”

Those who don’t build their own consciousness don’t know how to cook, listen to music, watch a movie, do sports, or even go to work. That’s how complaining about others begins.

Those who are aware of their consciousness, who set their own rules, build their own philosophy, and their own morality — they become creators. They don’t watch beautiful films; they watch films. They don’t go to beautiful places; they choose to go places. They know how to be angry, how to be sad. They know how to rejoice, how to love. Sometimes they choose to fall. Sometimes to stay. They don’t act based on general judgments — because they can’t believe in them. Unless someone says “This is how I live,” no one is truly living.

Of course, without the conditions I separate from emotions — like curiosity and desire, which I believe have no opposites and are continuous — people cannot form themselves. Emotions are under the control of time. They are the definition of our character’s reactions. They are things with opposites. I plan to touch on that another day.

Wherever and however we are, we must be able to say: “This is how I live.” Without “I,” there can be no “we.” "I" need me, for myself.