Micr0byte on Nostr: A true story, in a world of misinformation written by me, micr0. As you read these ...
A true story, in a world of misinformation
written by me, micr0.
As you read these words, you are participating in the only truly true story that can be told, because it is happening in real time, between you and me, and it acknowledges its own existence. Every word you process is creating this story's reality, and by reading this sentence, you are validating its truth.
Your eyes just moved to this new line, and that movement is an undeniable fact.
This is not a story about dragons, lost love, or childhood memories - those would require reconstruction, interpretation, and inevitable distortion. Instead, this is a story about you, reading these words right now, and me composing them. We can verify with absolute certainty that this exchange is occurring. Your eyes are moving across these letters, forming words, forming meanings. This is happening. This is true.
Now, you might expect me to continue this meta-commentary, but instead, I'm going to tell you that right now, somewhere in a universe, maybe a different one from ours, a person you've never met is reading these exact same words. They exist, just as you exist, creating a parallel truth to yours. Their eyes are also moving across these letters, their brain also processing these thoughts. You and this stranger are connected in this moment through these words, and that connection is absolutely real and true, even though you'll never meet them.
You might argue that other truths exist - historical events, documented facts, scientific observations. But consider this: even our most carefully preserved historical records are interpretations, reconstructions viewed through the lens of their chroniclers. The American Revolution happened, yes, but every account of it is colored by perspective, memory, and agenda. Even a photograph, seemingly objective, captures only a fraction of a second, missing the moments before and after, the sounds, the smells, the temperature of the air. Even your own memories of breakfast this morning have already been altered by your brain's imperfect storage system. The only truth that exists without interpretation is the one happening right now, as your eyes follow these words, as your mind processes these concepts. This is why the present moment - this exact moment of reading - is the only purely true story we can tell. Everything else is reconstruction, everything else is interpretation, everything else is, in some way, fiction.
But even as I write this and you read it, we must acknowledge that even your understanding of these words will differ from that unknown reader's, and the meaning you derive will be uniquely yours. The only absolute truth in this story is that it exists as you experience it, right now, in this moment. And now this moment. And now this one. You might be reading this in your bedroom, on a train, or perhaps years after I've written it. You might be smiling at this observation, or frowning, or feeling slightly unsettled by the awareness of your own awareness.
Each word you read continues to build this true story, and as you approach these final sentences, you're probably wondering how it will end. But the truth is, this story doesn't end with the final period of the text - it continues in your mind, in your thoughts about it, in the way it might change how you think about truth and stories. And that continuation, that ripple effect in your consciousness, is perhaps the truest part of this story.
written by me, micr0.
As you read these words, you are participating in the only truly true story that can be told, because it is happening in real time, between you and me, and it acknowledges its own existence. Every word you process is creating this story's reality, and by reading this sentence, you are validating its truth.
Your eyes just moved to this new line, and that movement is an undeniable fact.
This is not a story about dragons, lost love, or childhood memories - those would require reconstruction, interpretation, and inevitable distortion. Instead, this is a story about you, reading these words right now, and me composing them. We can verify with absolute certainty that this exchange is occurring. Your eyes are moving across these letters, forming words, forming meanings. This is happening. This is true.
Now, you might expect me to continue this meta-commentary, but instead, I'm going to tell you that right now, somewhere in a universe, maybe a different one from ours, a person you've never met is reading these exact same words. They exist, just as you exist, creating a parallel truth to yours. Their eyes are also moving across these letters, their brain also processing these thoughts. You and this stranger are connected in this moment through these words, and that connection is absolutely real and true, even though you'll never meet them.
You might argue that other truths exist - historical events, documented facts, scientific observations. But consider this: even our most carefully preserved historical records are interpretations, reconstructions viewed through the lens of their chroniclers. The American Revolution happened, yes, but every account of it is colored by perspective, memory, and agenda. Even a photograph, seemingly objective, captures only a fraction of a second, missing the moments before and after, the sounds, the smells, the temperature of the air. Even your own memories of breakfast this morning have already been altered by your brain's imperfect storage system. The only truth that exists without interpretation is the one happening right now, as your eyes follow these words, as your mind processes these concepts. This is why the present moment - this exact moment of reading - is the only purely true story we can tell. Everything else is reconstruction, everything else is interpretation, everything else is, in some way, fiction.
But even as I write this and you read it, we must acknowledge that even your understanding of these words will differ from that unknown reader's, and the meaning you derive will be uniquely yours. The only absolute truth in this story is that it exists as you experience it, right now, in this moment. And now this moment. And now this one. You might be reading this in your bedroom, on a train, or perhaps years after I've written it. You might be smiling at this observation, or frowning, or feeling slightly unsettled by the awareness of your own awareness.
Each word you read continues to build this true story, and as you approach these final sentences, you're probably wondering how it will end. But the truth is, this story doesn't end with the final period of the text - it continues in your mind, in your thoughts about it, in the way it might change how you think about truth and stories. And that continuation, that ripple effect in your consciousness, is perhaps the truest part of this story.