I walk through life in a maze of contradictions and mountains of information all opposing itself. How am I to make sense out of any of it? Why is it that there is no truth? Why does everyone search for the “truth?”
This so-called “truth” in any situation or story or reality is malleable, swaying like a warm piece of taffy being stretched in the wind, sticking to whatever it may bump into for a while until it melts off and goes swinging in another direction. I guess the saying is real, that the only truth you can count on is that change is constant.
But how can I ever decide what is going to work, if I’m thrown conflicting bones always? How do I create the skeleton of a dinosaur, when I’m being thrown chicken bones and dog bones and told to get to work with what’s available?
I guess the truth is what you decide to focus on and that can change any minute. You can try on others’ truths and see how they fit, but there is never any truth that is going to feel comfortable other than your own.
But what if you aren’t sure of your own truth, that because it’s always changing so quickly and taking on the decorations of what others think is your truth, you can’t quite make out what feels right?
Confusion sets in and I can only sit still. When will these clouds clear up?
Being changeable is supposed to make you well-rounded and flexible, but all it does is confuse me and make me unsure.