Mercy

by Phantazein Studio

I’ve heard them repeated over and over in every variation imaginable since childhood. The words echo through me and there isn’t a fiber within my being that is moved by these grand declarations of love, faith, and endurance.

From a comfortable distance, I can state that none of these tenets exist without condition. I have only what I’ve witnessed to rely on. In the face of staggering deception and the overturning of all that I believed to be true, I renounce these failed ideologies. Like a severed limb, I am vaguely cognizant of a void felt by their absence, but I cannot reclaim my former delusions of safety. I prefer to live in the clearest, purest state of reality that I can reach.

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All we have is Truth, or more accurately, the pursuit of it. And the Truth is only as reliable as the certainty of our perception. We are at the mercy of each others’ representations; what we contrive for each others’ viewing. One can only interpret and decipher these portrayals to the best of one’s ability, hopefully with intelligence and gradual wisdom. But never with absolute assurance.

Someone once told me that the Truth is so important to me that I am willing to go into the eye of the storm to reach it; at the risk of everything else, including my own safety and peace of mind. But as I see it, self deception is the ultimate state of unrest. So much so that I take great pains in facing the most uncomfortable facts with unyielding scrutiny, however unsettling what I uncover.