Here’s the truth: everything is a lie.

We tell ourselves everything has a meaning. But sometimes there really isn’t any purpose in our actions; things don’t always turn out as planned. We tell other people (and sometimes, ourselves too) we’re okay despite the eerie gnawing feeling that we’re not. We trivialize defeats and failures as stepping stones towards success — learning experiences as we’re often told — but sometimes all they ever do is add up and pull us down more than all the energy we could ever muster to stand back up. We comfort ourselves that as every day begins, it shall end at night too — but notwithstanding the chronic feeling of isolation and words and images that never seem to tire running through our feeble minds.

We fool ourselves that life is worth so much more despite the feeling that we’re just drifting along aimlessly. We search aimlessly for truths but we keep feeding ourselves lies. At what price does honesty come? What have we got to lose if we let go of lies?


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