Sunday, October 22, 2006

The truth is, we don't want the truth. The truth is, we want to hold on to sorrow, to depression, to nightmares, to scars, because they are what we have visited and revisited over and over, and over again, so much so that it becomes the only thing we know; it becomes the only thing we feel safe and secure in; it becomes the only thing that is unchanging in a rapidly spinning world, where the only constancy left, is the inconstancy of the heart, mind, body and soul. The truth is, we don't want to be saved. The truth is, we want to fall. The truth is, we are the cynic, the skeptic, the pragmatist, the realist, the pessimist, waiting secretly, desperately, and painfully, to be proven utterly and completely wrong. We want to feel the blood of our crushed conceptions drip from the very palm of our hands. We want to struggle, we want to wrestle, we want to confront, the loveliness of idealism and romanticism (all the while lying to ourselves and lying to those around us that we do not care and do not believe in it), until there comes a breaking point where there can be no more doubts, no more questions, no more testings and no more probings left, until we can freely and openly declare, that we have the courage and the passion and the insanity, to dream- to dream great big and silly bubblegum dreams, and fully believe in the possibility of their miraculous existence on this very earth. The truth is, the truth is merely a persisting perception agreed on by too great a number of people to be ignored. The truth is, we ignore it anyway. The truth is, we can and we have invented our own truths, using the very same words, the very same pictures, and the very same memories, as everybody else, and yet, and yet, have come up with strikingly drastic and different creations: We can live in self-pity, in loneliness, in the corners and edges and alleyways and turns of darkness. We can live in the full exposure of sunlight, of laughter, of hope, of joy, and of beauty of life despite inescapable adversity. We can observe a person and choose to believe in his underlying malice, hypocrisy, superficiality and cunningness. We can observe a person and choose to believe in his inherent kindness, generosity, optimism and genuineness. How do we strike a balance? The truth? The truth is madness. The truth is: You decide.


Miao said...

It all depends on whether you define truths through subjectivism or objectivism. 'Truth' is too complicated a word...

We can believe in the beauty of idealism and romanticism and yet at the same time harbors devastating sadness in our hearts. Such is the paradox of existence.

Phoenix said...

the truth is, every single sentenvce in this post, every single thing said anout truth (inc this one), every single 'truth', is actually nothing more than a half-truth.
The other half is lost in articulation

"The opposite of a truth is exactly as true"--Siddhartha, Hermen Hesse