On lies.

I don’t want you to know. That would just ruin everything, wouldn’t it? Destroy your perfect plan of a distorted harmony. Perfection is in the eye of the beholder. So is right and wrong. We make the rules as we go along.

What degree or magnitude of change constitutes a change of personality? We all know people don’t change. Circumstances change, shit happens, maturity of the soul settles some of our unconscious sand storms. But when can we say ‘I’ve changed’? That would surely presuppose we know ourselves.

We don’t.

Social conventions would never allow this. So how do we even know what’s ours? If our choices define us but we can’t trust them enough to be certain they belong to us, who are we? It’s not lack of freedom that we fear; it’s the certainty we could never be original. Not anymore, anyway. The image and the word have both become shocking, because there’s nothing else to understand. We don’t change. We’re simply trying out new things. And as we take pride in breaking with convention, we fail to realise we’ve merely tilted our heads and looked at another direction.

Anarchists if we do; sheep if we don’t.

Whose rules do we break when the ones who founded them are anarchists by default? Who do we follow them for? If we are unable to live outside a confined system of society, yet feel suffocated within it, where do we belong? If they truly gave us the freedom, would we know what to do with it? Isn’t it more heroic to play the black sheep? People will say you did¬†something.


The root of the problem lies in the simple fact that there is not truth. An archaic, romanticised notion of order. Of right and wrong. As if people ‘truly’ ever cared. There can never be truth without honesty. And honesty is way too powerful. Too volatile and uncontrollable. A force of nature whose control presupposes the absence of fear. And humanity cannot live without fear.

Too simple. Too boring. Too nihilistic.

Yet even fear has been mutilated. Experimented with to the point where overcoming it still doesn’t say anything about who we are. We overcome fear for others. If it’s not selfless, it doesn’t count. Margaret Atwood says that we’re a society dying of too much choice. When I first read this, I nodded in agreement. How very true! But I don’t share this sentiment anymore, for even this is an illusion. When have you ever made a selfish choice? And how can you be certain that this choice was not subconsciously contrived to simply go against the norm?

Human nature is too dark for a ‘truly’ harmonic coexistence. And yet we try. So as to place ourselves above the savage. We contain ourselves within a web of personal convictions we have slightly veiled from each other and call this a personality. But our choices are not reflections; they are projections. Never the real thing, only a ghost.

We are all liars; and that has been our greatest achievement, and our only ‘true’ legacy.

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