Sometimes, I think the biggest lie we ever tell ourselves is that the world makes sense. That there’s a rhyme or reason to the chaos we see every day. But here I am, late at night, wrestling with questions I don’t think anyone has the courage—or the audacity—to answer honestly. Why is it that we’re so willing to swallow the official narratives handed to us about history, religion, or even the universe, without stopping to wonder who’s pulling the strings? Why does it feel like we’re living in a world built on lies, while the truth is buried six feet deep alongside the people brave enough to tell it?
History’s a funny thing, isn’t it? We think of it as this immutable record of what happened, when in reality, it’s as malleable as the hands that write it. Why are we so comfortable letting the truth be rewritten, reshaped, rebranded? It’s terrifying to think about how little we actually know about the past. Real knowledge, real history—it doesn’t change. But what we learn in schools, what we see in documentaries, it all shifts based on the agenda of the moment. And yeah, I get it, history is written by the victors. But what happens when the victors are the villains?
Take this whole narrative about Jews trying to take over the world. Anthony brought it up the other day, quoting something he read online. I don’t know what to think about it. There’s so much noise out there, so much misinformation and propaganda, that the truth is impossible to pin down. Were Jews really this violent, power-hungry group trying to dominate everything in sight? Is that really why Hitler, as evil as he undoubtedly was, wanted them gone? Or is this just another twisted justification that’s been repeated so many times it feels like fact? The truth is, I don’t know. And maybe that’s the point. If you keep people confused, you keep them compliant.
But this isn’t really about that. It’s bigger. It’s about why we’re denied the truth about almost everything—our history, our religions, and even the very beings that might share this world with us. Let’s talk about that for a second. Why aren’t we taught about the existence of other beings, entities, forces? We act like humans are the only intelligent life on this rock, like we’re the ultimate creation, but how much of that is just arrogance? Every ancient culture has its stories—its gods, its angels, its demons, its visitors from the stars. Were they all just making it up? Or is it that we’ve been systematically taught to laugh at the truth, to see it as fantasy, while the people in power hoard that knowledge for themselves?
And then there’s the Pope. Why is he suddenly going around opening sacred doors? If you don’t know what I’m talking about, let me tell you: these aren’t just any doors. They’re symbols of something much deeper, much older than most people realize. When you open a door like that, in a religious or mystical sense, you’re inviting something in—or letting something out. What the hell is the Pope doing? And why does nobody seem to care?
Here’s the kicker: the whole foundation of Christianity, a religion that preaches against the evils of rituals, is built on rituals. Baptism, communion, prayer—they’re rituals, plain and simple. How do you reconcile that? I grew up being told rituals were pagan, evil, dangerous. Yet, every Sunday, Christians across the globe drink wine and eat bread, pretending it’s the blood and body of a man who lived 2,000 years ago. If that’s not a ritual, I don’t know what is. So what’s the truth here? Are rituals inherently evil, or is that just another scare tactic to keep people from exploring the real power that lies in them?
And because the universe has a sense of humor, while I’m sitting here questioning the fabric of reality, one of my dogs ate my wedding ring. Diamonds and gold, swallowed whole. The symbol of my love, the physical proof of my commitment, is now digesting in a furry little stomach. If that’s not a metaphor for the absurdity of life, I don’t know what is.
I’m not here to tell you what to think. I’m not even sure what I think. But I do know this: we’re being lied to. About everything. And if you’re not asking questions, if you’re not at least trying to peel back the layers, then you’re just as complicit in the lie as the people telling it.
I write here in my journal because it’s my way of peeling back those layers. If you’re reading this, I hope it inspires you to do the same. Don’t just take my word for it—or anyone’s. Question everything. And while you’re at it, subscribe to this blog, follow me on Spotify or wherever you listen to podcasts, and pick up one of my books. The truth may be buried, but together, we might just dig it up.