The concept of reality, as nonexistent but as a perception is absurdly absurd, but then again it is not possible to quantify reality in measurable units, (even if it was so, those units would be first perceptions).
I’ve believed somewhat, there is no other way of, no different way of putting those questions here; of scribbling down the confusions that have already begun to take shape: as molds of faith. Misfortunes of our kind and paradoxes associated with those have a long history of becoming: we substitute childhood for innocence, childhood which has an incomplete history.
Adam and Eve, cherished in ignorance/innocence imposed as an obligation with-out a childhood, and sinned ( Lets not get into the theory of sin again, just imagine they did) only to come to terms with reason and their non-existent childhood, and for centuries now, we cherish the fragility of our offspring: we carry the burden of void of Their lives. Imagine being thrust to adulthood, naked and in shame, but without a single memory or memento of ever being a child. Or did God create, as he created Adam and Eve, a false history of their being ex nihilo? And if so, such false scars from a non-existent childhood, such memories, wouldn’t it be unfair of god himself to impose such a terrible lie on his own Adam? And if for instant, say such memories did exist, of a time that didn’t, extrapolating the idea over the length of history, past has been a collection of memories only, and future hasn’t arrived yet and NOW is what isn’t after each instant but a memory again. If memories were conjured without the existence of actual time, such memories were flawed in their genesis and legacy of those, our memories of time, who’s to say are real or not. Thus time becomes just a logical fallacy, something that is believed to exist but doesn’t.
All such imaginations, imaginative as those maybe, will remain incongruous, in all effectual descriptions mere perceived misprisions, reflecting one’s own personal interaction with alienation and their supposed understanding of that, for there is no Post-Adam method of understanding Adam or understanding God was never transparent to begin with.
And for the lack of my ability to put it in the words I want to, I need to go back in time to borrow Borges's confusion and ultimately resignition
“Time is the substance I am made of. Time is a river which sweeps me along, but I am the river; it is a tiger which destroys me, but I am the tiger; it is a fire which consumes me, but I am the fire. The world, unfortunately, is real; I, unfortunately, am Borges."