The Alan Wozawsky Social Experiment: 21

"Dear friends" – he started, the first two lies- "I am truly sorry for any sadness this message will cause you; I wish that it would not" –the third, the fourth. Quid est veritas? Us. And he believes; understanding now there need be no Truths in the truth. He is the third person view, third voice in his spot-lit monologue. "This, I assure you, has not been a rash decision, nor an unconsidered one. Neither is it one caused by any body or anybody’s actions; I am simply" –he pontificates- "tired". "The eradication of purpose is the only thing I can sustain as a goal anymore. It is self defying, self terminating, and self fulfilling. I would have you all –my dearest friends- in on my secrets, but alas, they are too irrational -too cultivated- and bear no true meaning beyond the lie I have uncovered". The message is now his vassal –he would have the world believe- the final receptacle of his unformulated thoughts, awaiting their fermentation once they are released from their physical prison, their dungeon of cognitive machination and ink. He would have them spell out the truth on another’s lips –a truth he is too intimately involved now to utter because –already- he is steeped in the lie he had first to demolish. He is addicted … or corrupted … or converted. But he is lost to it, in it. "You have all –each- brought me joy in your own way, and I will remain forever –here and hereafter- grateful. As to my disposition, I would apologise, but what falsity I have I reserve for matters more viable to manipulation, lies that have a modicum of credibility. Besides, I have been unauthentic for long and often enough, and if a man will ever change, will ever seek to change, will ever manage to change, it is now, now. No, I hold no regrets over my disposition, but I bear it no love either. I have conviction of its futility –of course- but a man must learn to embrace his futility too". Quid est veritas? "I would not wish to burden you further and it is time to conclude this moment. You will forgive me –I am sure- my brevity -brevity, too, relative; only so in light of the moment approaching- but all else to say is trite". All lies must end, and as he nears his, they all become evident to him. His obscurity is punishment, his humility is punishment, his gratitude is punishment, his kind words are punishment, ones he knows will never fulfill their aim; but a lie –an open lie- too must be spoken when expected, for even the prince of darkness is a gentleman. "My friends, I bid you farewell," in his last moments he wondered if he had ever actually found himself. He had sought –fought- many a nights for this illusive self, this chimera asserted by the sheer weight of the world on the fragile voice of reason. It had filled his world, leaving it entirely empty, arid; so that on his final night -the night before- as he had shut the door on the world for the evening and another day became a grain of sand passing through the dial’s neck -witnessed only by a reaper’s ever vigilant eyes- he had failed to note the absence of another. "Farewell, this is my final note."