Fiction is a lie. And GOOD fiction is the truth inside the lie. ― Stephen King
People are drowning in an ocean of facts. We know too much, but feel too little. We are too caught up in what we can see to the point where we ignore the layer behind it. We judge on the surface and pay zero attention to the roots. We worship the trend and dim the light in our soul. We criticize people as though we were any better.
All the information we perceive, all the beauty we bury, all the insecurities we cause… what are they for? A bite from this modern life puts you into a deadly sleep. It is like you dreaming but no one can hear. You may or may never wake up from the coma of social expectations. You can fit in. But does fitting in requires you to rip your core out?
The point is we believe what the majority believes. To be worse, we believe that what we believe is the only truth. The calcium in our bones and the iron in our blood are the results of the burst of giant stars. Yet, most of us couldn’t care less about anything but the manmade objects of affection.
In the sixteenth century, many artworks depict the plumpness of the human bodies. People thought being fat was beautiful when fat was in the fashion. Some even argued that people believed such a thing because they thought that fat people must have been wealthy and must have had sufficient food to eat. And these days, we think we are less than perfect if our legs are not as slim as palm trees.
Most of what we believe in depends more on where we come from than we think. If people had not been introduced to the idea of falling in love, would we still have fallen? If women did not get pregnant like in Brave New World, would family exist? If people were incapable of feeling like in The Giver, would we even have emotional depth or even personality? If the world suppressed logic and independent thinking like in 1984, would it be wrong to say 2+2=4? Would you be a criminal for thinking the right thing? How could you know it was correct if the entire world is against you? If a sense of order was a necessity in one society, would it be sensible to kill a human life for the sake of it like in Lord of the Flies?
There are many realities made by fiction entities. Money is made from papers, but it can stimulate the mindset to be greedy monsters. We are willing to be slaves by working endlessly throughout day and night for those notes. We believe the top people in the world are so amazing to the point where we give up family, friends, and ourselves just to be like them.
The point has only one question: what is real? Look in the mirror but you don’t see you. You can only see the reflection which resembles you. You’ll never be able to see the real you. Your finger can never touch itself; it can only touch the other parts and the other fingers. Your mistakes could never hurt you as much as it hurts someone else. Your criticism can only point out what you do not like and what you cannot find beauty in.
What is real? Have we found the edge of the universe? Who are we to say that we are the only planet of life when we cannot even explore properly out there? Who are we to say that the earth is flat in one century and that it is round in the next? We just knew there are other galaxies other than ours in the 1920s. We can only see those galaxies in a form of millions of years ago because they are thousands of lightyears away. Why is it that we fear so much of what we cannot understand?
Again, what is real? If we never know the whole story, how could we be sure there are no aliens? How could we know there are no mermaids? Or dragons? Or unicorns? Or serpent? Or pixie? Or the hippocampus? Or basilisk? Or centaur? We lock ourselves in one room and we think that everything in that room is the only truth. We could do better than that, you know. What are we to say that fiction is a lie?
The moment we identify fiction as a lie is a moment we declare to the world that we live inside the box. Facts are only the trendy things going on in the room. But if you are not even open to the infinite possibilities outside of that room, are we any better than being ignorant? Do you only want to be minions in the world designed by others?
The stars are always there even when you cannot see them.
The wind is always there even when there is no color.
The fiction can be a lie. But there are a million truths hidden inside the lie.
Just look closer.