Reality, more so than existence, is over-rated.

I feel my heart being seized by bitterness and a tinge of betrayal, although I know that I should know better to not let it affect me. After all, it's nothing I didn't already know. The whole freaking concept of reality baffles me. The idea of a shared consensus of reality as the basis of sanity confounds me. And Truth... is truth also over-rated? Does the rejection of Truth make you a coward? Or does it make you mad for creating your own reality. And if it holds true that you've created your own reality, does it not follow that you have also succeeded in creating your own Truth? And does that implicate you as a crazy loon?

I think I feel like the prisoners in Plato's Cave, not being able to move my head. Seeing only shadows on the wall - shadows and figments. Illusions, if you will, that someone has orchestrated. Whether conscious or not. We always want to control how others perceive us. So inevitably, we're not always honest in our representation. But I suppose that's what life is, eh?

"Fake." The word has echoed here and there over the past month or so. In my head, in my ears... I'm not entirely stupid. But sometimes naivete and idealism - Blake's concept of Innocence with its imagination and altruism, as idealistically utopic as it may seem, manipulates one into believing it's more within reach than one would imagine - get the better of you me. Pondering superficiality many many weeks ago, I wondered just how important sincerity was. Is it the means or the ends which matter more? A sentiment expressed - even if it weren't completely honest or sincere, would it matter if it made its recepient happy? If the lie succeeds and the metaphorical blue pill is swallowed successfully, would it matter that it was a lie to begin with? Would you crush that illusion? And what if the truth were to descend later, after the lie had been consumed? What happens is a crumbling of reality. And perhaps, a shattering of the soul.

If you were to embark on a journey seeking Truth, you ought to know that what you stumble upon could be annihilating. I've read enough books, watched enough movies - in short, engaged in enough vicarious living - to know that you never completely know everything and so you should never judge. But you can't help but feel how you feel. The fruit from the Tree of Knowledge expelled Adam and Eve from Heaven. One has to ask if it was worth it.

There is a disturbance in my force. A heaviness rests upon my heart and I'm faced with a compulsion to run. Just run. That compulsion doesn't strike very often, and when it does, you know something's up.