Doesn't Exist.

Things are planned.
If they're not planned, they're orchestrated on-site.
If they're not driven by a hand they are set in motion by the simple mechanism of existence in a universe of simultaneity.
If the laws of nature don't cause it then it's the laws of the supernatural, for there are certainly aspects of our universe that we do not yet know, and there are certainly some we will never understand, because we are unwilling or incapable.

Because truth is such an incredibly raw thing, incredibly powerful, we try to see it in ourselves. We try to think that we can tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. But what is truth?

Truth is how something REALLY is. Untainted by our interperetations and biases. Unadulterated by distortions and misrepresentations. Undiluted with exaggerations, omissions, and editorialisations. The truth is so uncannily, unhumanly pure, that nothing humanity will ever percieve will honestly maintain that level of sanctity.

In a total absence of existence, there would still rest truth. The truth that existence is no longer. THe truth that this is, indeed, a paradox. The truth that no matter what has come before and what will come after, the only thing that is, and will always be, is truth.

And those of you who disagree, or simply like to argue, will call this on technicalities. "Truth is created by perception!" you will say. "It is it's contrast with artificiality that establishes it!"

Others will cry, "How can there be a true nature of anything in an absolute absence of anything? It's simply preposterous!"

The existence of air bends light waves so that the sun's light does not reach us in its true colors. Oh yes, it's "true" that those colors natural. But in my seeing and describing the brilliant orange sunset to you i have failed to capture every infinitely complex facet of its colors and textures, and have even failed to communicate the brooding energy and romance of the moment that seemed to hang, and hang, and never let out its breath.

If your brain is hurting, don't worry, reality isn't true. It's a simalicrum. It's copies of copies. The utter complexity of existence, it's peculiar and unfathomable nature, it's enough to make someone wish they didn't exist. So we make things simple.

For example, when i spend this next week telling the truth to all of my close friends who deserve it, i will think of the sheer power a man-made truth can have.

Linking word to word can forge a gift that keeps on giving, it can assemble the ultimate weapon, it can destroy the indestructible and shatter the whole.

I have lead a long chain of partial truths and shallow promises, none lies, per se, but none that can hold their salt. There's a juggernaut on the loose that i must halt, a machine whose gears must be ground to a stop. I put it in motion, and although all intentions were for the best, it will collide with me further down the road.

There may be pain, but far less than if it is left unchecked.

Free Falling Again.