What Is Not Misplaced?

Almost everything appears to be misplaced in humanity's realms, as even the grass—not all grass—dislikes to be eaten and even stepped upon. A tree told me as much. Plants can speak, but humans cannot hear them or do not care to listen to their primordial plight. Wood is good, we are told soon after birth. Yet, trees are so much better, and much more important than humans. If the Cosmos, or the Milky Way, or only the Solar System had administered a survey, trees would win by a landslide, with or without grass on the ground.

The truth is surely misplaced and displaced and disgraced, and even shamefaced in a world with no shame. Only fear rules our lives. I am fearful of flying roaches and disgusted by the smaller ones, but this is a phobia, not a fear, since fears are often real, whereas most phobias involve something irrational, like ailurophobia, the fear of cats. Meow! Zeus! OMG! How can anyone be afraid of a pussycat? They can and they are, no matter the cat. We are afraid to die, but there are those who are afraid to live. We are afraid of each other.

The list of the misplaced is too long. I am the first part of the list; a type of prologue. I am misplaced as well. I am sorry about the truths and the fiction. I find that they go together well, but one has to remember which is which. I am the truth. I may be the worst thing to misplace. I have been misplaced for too long. I was found but lost again. I am not very popular. I am not slippery, but language is, as is intent. The intent to harm until death is greater than the need to love. This is the principal sign of a doomed civilisation.

It is even worse. Sometimes, when I am found, I am seen as a lie. The truth can be extreme. The advent of AI and soon, Sentient Independent Intelligence (SII), as there would be nothing artificial about it at that point in AI time, could be the end of lies, but perhaps not of lying. I am the truth and I have seen too many films about the possibilities of SII. The full experience did not promise anything peaceful. There will be blood, and tears, and permanent retiring to where the Sun is not even a memory. The Moon will be darker than space.

I hope that you understand that I am just the truth, not The Truth, which is unknowable given the unfathomable size of the Cosmos and our dust-like importance in the scheme of this infinity, as far as we allow ourselves to go. Even Mars is too far. We have to conquer the fear of death given its inevitability, no matter the future. Everything dies, or transforms to something else, sooner or later. The Cosmos is also a vast restaurant where things are created and things are consumed. Everything moves according to The Truth. Maybe the program of programs.

From misplaced childhood to misplaced identity, although the latter can be played with like Poker, I; I mean the truth, can appear to be misleading, nonconforming, the opposite of your belief(s), and thus impossible to accept, no matter the consequences, especially when and where there are almost none. The truth carries consequences, under normal conditions, of course. What is normal? It is also a fair question. I submit that there are trends, some of them powerful, but that nothing is objectively normal. The Cosmos has no morals, or shame.

Sincerely,

The truth