Holes


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There is a hole at the center of Everything. If you've seen it once, you can't go back, and your mind will be changed forever.

Revealing this awful secret that defines the fundamental truth of the Universe will not bring you solace in your quiet hours. You will not sleep better having known it. Instead, if I explain this to you, you will leave the transaction with a scratch on your psyche—a tariff placed on your soul, and you will have to bear it for each moment you persist, just like me. Just like all those before me who taught me to see this world for what it truly is—whether they meant to or not—and just like those who are to come, who will follow blindly and fail to use their perceptions for anything other than raising more questions than answers.

Holes exist at the center of Everything. Gaps fill the void that occupies the space between that-which-is and that-which-is-not. Most humans bridge these gaps with confabulations or in shrugs and off-hand comments, as is our natural tendency to scribble in the blank spaces with reasonable lies and semi-relevant half-truths. Narratives cohere, the edge of Occam's razor grows forever sharper, and we all live happily ever after. What else can we do?

And yet, all that is left over are holes.

Not too long from now, you will find yourself in one. You might fight for a while, and your fingernails may prove stronger than once thought. The dirt that gathers beneath them as you scream will be somewhat of a merit in that regard, but we all go down eventually, and none of those holes are going to be filled.

That's the lesson, and there is no right answer.

I'll be waiting for you in the ground.

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