Once a mind is made up, irrevocably, it becomes unbending and brittle. It becomes subject to irreversible rupture when irrefutable, contrary facts present themselves. When evidence—that an immutable decision was based on fallacy—is impossible to ignore, the mind shatters into shards of sacrosanct debris, scraps of certainty strewn across the mindscape. The certainty that led to such an explosive eruption forever taints future decisions. Yet absolutes continue to grow in the rubble of that friable brain; evidence discordant with its unshakable confidence is ignored or mocked. Facts have no place in a mind crushed into a wet dust, laden with alternative truth. That muck soon becomes quicksand, sucking reality into bubbling pits that drown veracity in viscous pools of deceit and caustic myth.
Question everything. Believe nothing, least of all the stories you tell yourself. Your certainty scorches the thin layer of ice under your feet, that thin layer your only protection from the boiling cauldron of misjudgment beneath you.
