The truth is . . .
Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about truth, and how we perceive it. Truth is what propels us through life, isn’t it? We create truths about ourselves, and how we fit into the world. Compartmentalizing our truths is how we understand ourselves and others.
What we believe the truth to be, how we share or hide it, and how we interpret it when it comes from others all matters because that’s how we form our morals, give weight and value to things. The Truth seems like a giant monolith, but I see it erode into something completely different from what it was once upon a time.
I think people view truthiness as a positive trait; we pride ourselves on our honesty. Deceit can be a deal breaker for many, and can tear relationships apart. But sometimes deceit is what holds people together and it’s the truth that drives a wedge between them. It’s amazing the weight we put on something so ephemeral as truth.
It’s with this premise that I finally sat down and started writing a novel.
I’ve watched the lives of people around me change and crumble, be fortified and redefined. Life’s a funny thing — the things we feel are so worth fighting for today may be of no consequence to us tomorrow. The facts can change. Even our truths change.
The funny thing is that when we are gone, when we are not here to defend our truths, all that’s left is how someone else interprets our reality.
I find this fascinating.
What’s more, I find the buoyancy of this idea, and how the very idea of it changes the more I think about it, truly amazing.
My truth is that I’m excited about this seed of a novel, and I really hope this turns into something larger than just a seedling.