Doubt

I don’t know where to go from here.
 
I know too much to go back.  I know too much of either side.
 
How can I know which is truth?
 
If the truth that I thought I had known is a lie then the lie that I thought was not true is now truth. But the truth that I knew I knew for a reason.  I experienced it.  It was living and breathing and real at the time.  I cannot deny that.  I cannot escape it.  I knew what I knew because it was real.  Because it had depth.  Because it moved me.  It shifted the ground on which I stood.  So it had to be truth, for it existed.

The lie that I did not believe had no weight.  Those who disagreed did so because they hadn’t lived through the truth I had seen.  That was the perception.   
 
However, since then I’ve picked up the lie.  I’ve held it and smelt it and felt it–I’ve smeared it all over the floor.  I know it exists.  I know that it isn’t as fake as I’d thought.  It has properties about it.  It smells.  It has texture.  It is.
 
How?  They cannot both be real.  They cannot co-exist.  There is no light in the darkness.  One negates the others existance.   There has to be wrong to be right.  But wrong cannot be the right.  Lies are imparative to the life of the truth.  If one is not then neither is the other.  They cannot be on the same side or they will cease to be at all.

So which is what?  There cannot be truth if there is not a lie.  So where is it?  Which is the lie?
 
The discovery of doubt is the death of the truth.