Last night turned out to be quite rough. I got home around 11:30 following a long closing shift, and curling up into bed, I found myself overwhelmed by the knowledge of the disappointment and futility that has characterized my life thus far. “Death is not that which I fear, but life and its promise of misery at every turn.” An excellent quote. Hope has duped me yet again. I let my guard down, and it swooped in for the kill, sank its teeth into the soft of my neck. I must shatter this (self-)deception and crucify these laughable hopes on the altar of reality. *SIGH* I’m done trying to figure out why my life is the way it is. I’m done asking why I’ve been dealt this hand; the only thing I can do is try and play the game the best I can with the cards I hold. Some people have royal flushes, others have two pairs of Aces; I’ve got a mismatch of clubs and diamonds. Nothing I can do with that but fold and watch my dreams pass me by. In the past I’ve fought for my dreams, even to the point of spilling blood. But no more. I’ve embraced a sort of resignation. This is life:
What you want, you can’t have.
What you have, you can’t keep.
And that which you love will, eventually, be taken from you.
The best course-of-action isn’t to deny this, nor to try and argue it away. No, the best thing to do is to accept it. Embrace reality for what it is, not for what you want it to be. Reality doesn’t cater to our wants nor our whims, and if we try to color it up as something it’s not, we’ll just find ourselves bitch-slapped across the face. The deeper the delusion, the deeper the sting. I don’t like reality. I don’t want it to be like this. But I’ve got no say in the matter.
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