Vertigo

"You never find yourself until you face the truth."
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What is the truth?
Have I found myself or have I just found the ideology of what I want myself to be?
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I know what needs to be done, but I am not strong enough to do it.
Suddenly, the things that seem to be the littlest of all become unbearable.
I feel the weight of the not-too-long-ago past pressing against my chest, and consequently, I just wish everything just all together dissolved into the air, which is swallowing myself into its thick, solidified state of being.
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I can't face the truth not because it is unbearable, but because it is unstable.
The definition of truth itself is relative.
After all the lies are stripped away, what is left? The truth? or more lies?
The fundamental purpose of a lie is to protect the truth, why then, would people not want to protect what is true? Isn't that what all of us are supposed to do?
We lie because we want to stop people from invading our own very truth--one that is pure and simple in our own term, because we're afraid that the intruder would taint our truth, and thus redefine the meaning of our lives.
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"Be ready to surrender yourself for what you could become."
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What if the thing that you were to become is indeed not who you are, or ever were?
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What if, it is indeed better off for you to live with the lies that define you, or is it better to risks letting others tainting your truth?
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Maybe I don't want to face the truth.
Maybe I've found what I've been searching for.
Maybe.. not.
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And then it is gone. gone. gone. everything, gone.
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Maybe life is how it should be.
Because it can't be any different.