some say it is the driving force of progress. or the middle way between faith and taking offence. or the mother of whatever it is doubt could be the mother of.
tonight i just do not know.
i do not even know if i doubt… i doubt even this.
i made a mistake of using meta-language instead of the language i had to speak. at least, that is how it looks to me. instead of knowledge, i spoke of what i feel and how i feel. i should not have.
the result is this sleepless night. thoughtless. or maybe too many thoughts. the unknowing has reached me, too. with all its weight and emptiness. i do not seem to know what i know.
or maybe my language is flawed. it must be so, once i cannot adequately express myself.
or maybe something has happened to my logic.
or maybe something else.
i doubt and thus i exist, in a limbo at the door of the unknowing.
not undecided. not unfaithful. not without faith.
i stare at the screen/book/wall/ceiling/nothing intensely.
what is the algorithm to determine when one can speak of what they feel, use the meta-language of thoughts about thoughts, admit to pain without being misunderstood for unfaithful, without confidence or out of order? what is the algorithm to determine who one can talk to like this, and live?
i guess…. this is the core of my doubt.