Let me start by clarifying that I write this with absolutely no agenda, no hidden motives, no ulterior plan to advance myself or my interests. You know how other people would say one thing and actually mean another? Say, they’ll praise what you’re wearing while actually highlighting what displeases them about it, so your friends can see it clearly and snigger in their heads—that’s what this piece is not.
See, I stick to the truth like a hardened nose gum on a bed post. When I talk about things, I describe them objectively with a dogged tenacity to uphold positivism. There are no gray areas with me or any room for suggestions, allusions, and metaphorical expressions of the like. When I use figures of speech, such as in the opening sentence of this paragraph, I use them to aid elucidation and not hint on another latent meaning, which the reader should unlock in order to unravel the true purpose of the writing. I consider such a task terribly tedious and a tragic turn in literary culture. Though, I must say, I do not care at all about literature because literature is basically a socially exalted exercise in lying. In fact, I literally mean everything that I say and mean them in a very limited way with a clearly defined scope.
There’s no beating around the bush, ignoring the elephant in the room, or walking on eggshells with me. I don’t avoid the real subject at hand or try to deceive the audience by discussing misleadingly. Satire is not in my vocabulary—only science.
This is who I am, writing or speaking—even in nonverbal actions. When I engage in an activity, I do it just for the sake of doing it without trying to follow leaps of logic that would necessarily give me new angles and opportunities to criticize it in the larger scheme of things or from a fresh perspective. For example, when I drink coffee in Starbucks, I drink it for the sole purpose of digesting caffeine and enjoying the multiple ways sugar is used in the concoction. I never think of anything else regarding my purchase or the company that sold it to me.
This is precisely why, I believe, my friends appreciate my company because they can rely on me to convey information without bias. So if one of my friends asks me, “Does this dress make me look fat?” I tell them nonchalantly, “Yes, visually, that dress, brings attention to the roundness of your body and tricks the eye to make you seem even larger than you truly are.” That or “No, it does not.” But it makes no matter if he or she is my friend, an acquaintance or a total stranger. I treat everyone the same.
Unlike others, my Facebook posts are void of vagueness and are crisp in clarity. “Busy day in the office,” I’d post or “The boss spends around 4 hours every day watching YouTube.” True, my propensity to talk only in facts gets me in a bit of trouble quite regularly and encourages people to call me negative things like “an obnoxious socially incompetent know-it-all” or a “sociopath in the making” but it hasn’t stopped me from being who I am. To behave otherwise would be a betrayal of not just myself but the Truth.
For if a man only speaks in undeniable facts, then isn’t it true that he stops being a man? He becomes not just the symbol of Truth, but its very mouthpiece—and thus, Truth itself. Let me use another metaphor here to illustrate the point: isn’t the Word of God not only a means of divine expression but God Himself?
And from where I’m standing, I can see how people have miserably failed in walking the narrow but just path to total neutrality and impartiality. Everyone aside from me is double-tongued, two-faced, self-serving, and a liar through and through. Some have even so thoroughly gotten into the habit of misguiding others that they have effectively fooled themselves. But I do not judge their ultimate worth, only their capacity to be different from me.
Yes, I truly am convinced—no, I assert—that I am the Truth. No bullshit.
Sit Back and Starve 