Something Invisible

What is invisible?

 

You can’t touch love or misery.

But.

You can see your lover’s eyes light up when you come home. You can see the suffering in a child’s eyes when they huddle in the shadows in the streets.

So, yes, you can see love and misery.

 

So again, what’s invisible?

Hope?

You can see that too.

 

Truth?

Can you see truth?

You can see when someone’s lying…

So doesn’t it follow that you can see when someone is telling the truth?

I think so, yes.

 

What about ghosts?

If we’re going with the ghost theory, then for that theory to exist, that means we believe ghosts are real. Then that means we believe the spirit of a person exists, which, if you were another dead person (spirit) you could see other dead people.

Nope. Not invisible.

 

What is there that science cannot quantify, cannot see on a screen once it’s MRIed it, CAT scanned it, or otherwise broken down and visible under a microscope?

What is there that we cannot, as people, see?

Yes, you can see emotion.

Yes, you can see ideals.

I mean, technically, at least. At the end of it all, you can see these things.

We can’t see gravity but we can see it work. We know it is gravity. It’s visible.

What is left?

What is invisible?

 

Time.

I thought I had it with this one.

Okay, so actually this one wasn’t my idea. But regardless.

This doesn’t work either.

We can see time passing.

We see the effects of time.

 

Nothing is invisible.

Not even our secrets.

 

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This is post #4 in Rara’s #Somethingist challenge. For my original post (which explains things), click here. And then join the challenge!

Something True

Truth?

My dog’s big brown eyes staring up at me as I tell him I love him.

 

Truth is getting lost in a song I can feel.

 

Stories are true.

Stories are truth even if they’re wrapped up in some lies.

Make believe. Fairy tales for the soul. Grotesque and painful but beautiful and pure. Painful dredges through the muck so you can build a home and lay on the living room floor like a child again, safe, comfortable, content, and happy to just be there.

Truth is the stories we tell.

The stories we get lost in. The stories we survive inside.

The ones that break us. The ones that build us.

The ones that allow us to find the ugliness behind the bright lights. The beauty in the deepest holes filled with the heaviest atmosphere.

 

Truth is getting lost and finding yourself.

 

Truth is truth.

It can be hidden, denied, disguised, discarded.

But truth can never be broken.

 

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This is post #3 in Rara’s #Somethingist challenge. For my original post (which explains things), click here. And then join the challenge!