One of the questions I’m asked is if everything I write about is true?
Or, one could offer the idea that perhaps what I write is only true to me, which it is.
This is all true to me. Everything I write is true, even when (or if) it’s not true to someone else or true; I have come to the understanding that everyone has their own version of truth. Why else do people argue? Then again, perhaps the biggest problem is that we mistake opinions for fact and therefore, no matter what we think, there is only one truth. Any other version of that truth is no longer true. It’s only true to us.
I think the safe answer is that even a lie can be true to people. I can say the truth of our perception is always true to us.
I can say that even if what we see is irrational or if our thoughts are altered by the impact on our lives; the truth can be relative sometimes. And then there’s the denial phase. This is where nothing is true at all yet, there it is. The truth. Right in front of us.
And here’s another truth. We are all fragile and weak, which is why the mind comes up with these methods to cope with facts or accept information.
There are literally billions of people here in Project Earth. Almost everyone is living a lie of some sort. Or maybe we’re caught by the sway of a dream.
Or, maybe this is a decision to believe in a mistruth or something that’s somewhat altered, just because we want to find a better reality. Maybe we do this for no other reason than to cope. Or, maybe this is hope at its core. Maybe we want to visualize our lives until we make this life our own. This could be it too.
Maybe this is nothing other than our cognizant verities in need of something more. what I mean is maybe we look to decorate our lives because we don’t like what we see; and hence, maybe we flavor our lives because we’re afraid that other people do not like what they see (in us.)
I can see how we use our true lies to color the lamps and shade our view into a more acceptable light. We all want to paint a pretty picture. After all, isn’t this why people filter their photographs? Isn’t this why head shots are done up, beautiful as ever? And then you meet the person and think to yourself, “Hmmm, that’s not really what you look like.”
In answer to the question, yes. All of this is true. I am not a fiction writer, however, there are times when I am aware of the word “version,” and yes, there are times when my version might be different from someone else’s.
This is why I look to be honest because the last thing I ever want is to be exposed in front of the world. I promise you; the last thing I want is to ripped down from everything I’ve built.
There are times when I change the names or places or simple details; and yes, I do this to protect the less-than innocent. And the funny thing is, these people know who they are.
I know this because there are times when I’ve received a call or an email from an old friend who’d ask, “That was us, right?”
Yes it was.
I am a storyteller. At least, I hope to be some day. I am a storyteller, like my Father was before me. Only, as I age; I realize that my versions change because I have changed.
Also, my relation to emotion and experience has grown throughout the years. Therefore, I guess it is safe to say that I have matured. (I suppose)
It isn’t much though – the way you or I see things. It isn’t much to appeal to each other in a social light. It isn’t much to admit to our needs to be connected or valid. Of course, we want to be valid and validated by each other.
Now, I go to the ability of memory and the amplified versions of what happens to us. I go to the ideas of an altered reality, which is not to say that what we’ve seen is not what happened.
However, I can say that what we experience can be seen through different lenses; and when inspected, our lives can be viewed in varied interpretations.
Our views can change, according to the emotion or hype. The way we relate to information can change according to our relation to experience and memory. I can say that the mind is often a liar and so is memory.
I had to come to a clear decision. In order for me to be the person I want to be, I’d have to make some changes. I couldn’t look away anymore.
The fact is that we all face the mirror at some point throughout the day.
There’s always something around to give us a quick reflection.
Therefore, I have no delusions about what comes next. Then again, I have no plans nor do I care about what comes next. I say this because it seems that hey, everyone out there is playing for the same dime.
No one is looking to tighten their belt or to share their scene, which means I have to create one for myself. And to me, it seems as if the charades and the ongoing acts are an extension of us or how we think or feel. I can say that the way I see people treat others says less about others and more about them. I can say that I have encountered thieves at both the street level and the corporate atmospheres. In which case, I can also say that I have met more honest people in jails than I have in boardrooms.
I can say that this thing I have; right here. This is my best version of therapy – and to be pure, I offer this view of myself without filter or the need to portray myself in a certain light.
We are all singular machines and yet, our modes of expression are jack-hammering like the sound of loud machines, clamoring away in the midst of construction during the Midtown madness.
I was once told: Write on Poet.
And since then, I’ve not stopped. I’ve not given in. I might not have made millions or been celebrated by others. And I might not be everyone’s cup of tea, which is fine because I’m more of a coffee man, myself.
All I can say is that without this place, which I have in my soul or without my ability to come here and share these pieces of myself – I swear, I’d have lost my mind a long time ago.
I can close with this:
I was told that to be humble means to be honest. I was told that modesty is the absence of pride. And when I decided that I want to be a writer; I decided that this is the writer I want to be –
Humble and modest, because everything else is bullshit and since everyone else is chasing the same dime, I think it’s better that I look for something more
And to tell you the truth, I’ve found it.
I’ve found something more than just a dime
Need proof?
You’re reading this. Aren’t you?
That’s all the proof I need.
The Written Addiction 