There's no truth in anything.

It seems grim, doesn't it? You look down deep into your own existence, you escalate your doubt to heaven and drive your questioning deep down to the very roots of being-- and there is only emptiness. A raw, random loosely joined bundle of connections to other objects.

This is because truth is relative to context.

"Context" just means the conditions and situation of a given phenonema (object, person, process, event, etc.)-- the truth of phenomena is relative to the context of that phenomena because the phenomena in-itself has no substance. Any existent considered separate from being is an empty abstraction, a hollow conceptualization, the abyss. Individual, solitary existence--the kind of existence created by consciousness--is defined by this nothingness at its very heart, a profound emptiness.

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