Are we our thoughts? Or are thoughts like feelings, which would simply flow through us if we didn't occupy them and dwell?
I suppose it could be said that most of us are obsessive thinkers - in our heads so much that it has become normal to allow our thoughts to take the wheel while we ride shot-gun. It's like our minds have a mind of their own sometimes!
If we are indeed our thoughts - that voice in our head; that internal dialogue; that incessant chatter - then who is it that's listening to all these ramblings?
And since we observe everything through our individual eyes and seemingly can't separate ourselves from our own unique perspectives, are our dramas real or imagined?
Are we simply making it all up?
Could it be that life is simply a collective collaboration of our expectations of it; our sense of significance within it; our musings, thoughts and beliefs about it?
This all reminds me of an interesting quote by Mark Twain, "I've been through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened."
So what do YOU think?