Biochemical reaction

Remember, from a scientific perspective, your political beliefs, the religious system you follow, and the love and hate you feel are nothing more than biochemical reactions in your brain — temporary constellations of molecules pretending to be eternal truths. And as such, they are subject to disruption. The brain does not run on ideals but on neurotransmitters; you are calm not because of wisdom, but because serotonin floods your synapses, and you are faithful not because of an eternal principle, but because dopamine rewards you for repeating familiar patterns.

It is chemistry, and only chemistry. You are sad, and sugar can trick your neurons into believing that the world is brighter; you are restless, and a glass of warm milk can lead you into sleep more effectively than philosophy ever could. Every so-called transcendence has its recipe, every emotion its dosage. What we call depth is often nothing more than balance, and balance is a fragile thing.

But the mind is not only chemistry — it is also electricity. Synapses click like microscopic relays, firing and misfiring, weaving your sense of continuity in fragile patterns of charge. Electric fields interfere, they resonate, they amplify, they collapse. And like any wave, you too can be tuned or de-tuned, amplified into ecstasy or silenced into nothingness.

All it takes is a drug, a trauma, or a precise algorithm targeting your attention, and you become someone else. The line between who you are and who you might be is not carved in stone — it is liquid, unstable, programmable. Your identity is less a monument than a frequency, less a fortress than a membrane.

And there is more. What you crave is not born in your will but in the silent voices of your microbiome. Bacteria whisper their preferences into your nervous system, persuading you to reach for sugar, salt, or fat. The self you defend so fiercely is already a colony, a parliament of organisms negotiating your desires in chemical languages older than thought.

We know already that free will does not exist in the way we once believed. Decisions arise milliseconds before consciousness, prepared in silence by neural machinery, shaped by hormones, bacteria, and fields. What you call a choice is only a postscript, a story invented by the brain to justify what has already happened.

What you call your self is not a being but a balance, not a truth but an arrangement — a temporary harmony of molecules, currents, and microbial voices. Disturb the balance, and the person you thought immutable dissolves. Not in years, not in months, but in seconds. And perhaps the most unsettling truth is not that you are fragile, but that you never were anything else.

#mind #feelings #health #menthalhealth