I know it sounds so assuming for me to define truth at this age when I do not have anything near what I can call as a legitimate career, a stable life, or a fairly static emotion. I have nothing worthy to die or to live for. I’m like a prokaryotic bacterium with no defined identity, constantly in a flux, free-living. I swear that if I fail to wake up tomorrow no revolution will occur. Things will remain as they are if not for few tears my mother will shed, and the world will go on, not stopping even for a while to mourn for one soul lost.
We are all looking for something. Life ends when we already find that thing. In fact I think that life is a search. But what makes it more difficult is the fact that we do not know what we are looking for more so how to find that thing or where to look for it.
As for me I only want to find truth. A truth I am not certain exists. There’s no such thing as the truth, I know. What I look for is a truth I’ll have no second thoughts of believing in. This truth may already have been written in the stories I wrote or read or I may have inadvertently missed them while I was so preoccupied with nonsensical ideas. I think that sometimes, the entire creative process saps me of any strength to continue my search and just dwell on what is readily perceived by my senses. I seek not to be profound. In fact I believe that truth is a result of a careful distillation process with an end product of nothing but the fundamentals that I shall use to deduce meaning and explain my world with. But I have no intention to just settle with what my senses tell me. Because if that is how easy it is then we might as well have committed suicide because life will be nothing but satisfying carnal desires.
My desire to find truth started when I learned to read and when I eventually learned how to write down my thoughts on paper. Reading magnifies and deepens the emptiness we feel inside. This search for truth fills in the void. You notice that reading is a double-edged sword. It opens up and fills in at the same time. That’s one of the paradoxes when one’s life is dedicated to nothing but that instinctual search for truth.
Some search truth in their faith, their belief to a being unfathomable. Some travel the world even go as far as the outer space just to see themselves against a vast perspective. Others are just too tired to find their truths.
As for me, I’m like anybody else, journeying, trying hard to define, breathing and looking forward to a new day to find my own truth.