You think you know me so well. To you, I am this noble cause; an ideal that wars are fought over; an absolute; everything. Right up there with honesty, integrity, respect – why, even God himself.

What a joke. Don’t you see that I am but the ultimate in pranksters? A fun house mirror, shattered by my own hand with shards scattered across the universe? I bet most of you don’t even feel the sliver embedded within your own soul. That piece of you that cries out “I know this, there is no way I am wrong here”. That’s me.

To some of you, I am nothing but a callus on your palm. Something that you bump against every once in a while, but never really causes you any angst. What a boring lot those people are. So comfortable in their own beliefs, so tolerant of other viewpoints that directly conflict with their own. Or perhaps just uninvolved, uncaring or just plain insecure to really latch on and do something, anything with me.

To some of you, I am everything. To these people, I am a shard of glass embedded on the bottom of the foot, the index finger, maybe even the eye. Something that has always been there, something they simply can’t even imagine living without. So confident that they know me, that they really truly know me like nobody else, they are willing to die for me. Willing to kill for me, willing to wage war for me, willing to torture and be tortured in my name. Man, what a trip.

Most of you are somewhere in between. You call on to me when it suits your purpose, and think you forget about me when you have “it” figured out. But I am always there, always whispering in your ear. You follow my lead so easily, ready to believe anything that makes sense of the chaos around you. Think about it – how many questions have you resolved for yourself? How many stats, promises, theories have you blindly accepted as fact? How much easier is it to latch on to an explanation that just makes sense, than to hover at the edge of darkness and question everything?

I am a game. A mystery to be solved. A riddle that leaves you with the answer on the tip of your tongue. A puzzle you can not resolve in a hundred lifetimes. A thousand lessons learned from past mistakes, a thousand tales of glory and things done right. I am that which you name countless times as yours, something you claim to possess. I am that which gives you purpose.

Who am I? Let me tell you. I am truth. Not your version of truth, not his version of truth, simply truth. I am but an infinite number of realities rolled into one simple, amazingly complex truth.

A million alternate versions of me reflected, fragmented, twisted and spun until they are almost unrecognizable and then scattered across the universe – that is what I give you. In return, you give me entertainment. Life immortal can be rather dull at times and you really do amuse me….so let the games begin.

Copyright © January 2008, Janelle Smith



Fargo, United States

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