How To Accept Life Sucks
I am convinced that a layer of innocence, perhaps a sheath of optimism dissolves into mid-air when you turn 25. It’s when life shows you it’s real self and she is ugly without her makeup. The things you used to believe and the ideas that comforted you as a child have now turned into brisk voids in which you cannot rely on anymore. Walls are harder. Nights are colder. People you once laughed with are now dead. Cynicism somehow has become an odd protector. It’s there to sink into when life drags you into those depths of pain it for some reason thinks you can handle.
It can get so bad, there are times you want to yell at life. Not yell. You will want to shriek. You will want to scare it like bloody hell from the wrath of your screams to tell it to stop. Please stop getting worse. If you can’t scream then you hope that if you just close your eyes, you will dissolve away. Like maybe if you just lay there still enough for long enough, your body will melt into the couch and all of this can be forgotten. Maybe you won’t have to come up with a solution to your money/love/health problems. Maybe you can just lay there and everyone will forget about you, including yourself. That would be nice.
These underworlds of agony prickle your skin and soul enough to scar and no, after this, you will never be the same. Those joys of your childhood? You’ll be lucky to have remembered them at all. That natural optimism that used to shine through your skin will now have to be forcibly manufactured, just to see a trace.
Life has rubbed you. You are now marked. You now get it. You now get that this world can be a fucked up place. It isn’t always is, but you now know it has the capacity and you can’t unsee that. Maybe you realized it when you had to navigate through the soberness of the world with a dragging, bleeding heart. Maybe it was when you had to go to work with a mind full of monsters and memories no one else could see because they were hiding behind your smile. The point is, there is a depth, where mercy does not feel extended to you and you can swear it has hard wired you into misery.
But these warm dishes of cruelty mature our palette for life. We cannot be decent parents unless we allow ourselves to be children of the world’s mysteries first. We can’t really fall in love unless we really fall in love with the wrong person first. We cannot find who we are unless we get utterly and exhaustedly lost in nonsense first.
Because you know what? Maybe life isn't about feeling good or getting exactly what we want. Maybe it's just about experiencing everything there is to feel. If that's the case, we must keep running. We must keep running into the painful, desperate and lonely walls of reality, for it's the only way to hit something real.