When my dad passed away, I was Stine cold. The protected little cub thrown out into the wild , standing in front of the dead body of the person who meant everything to him and not a tear. It was a weird feeling. Grief intertwined with sudden fearlessness. If everything I have is taken, I seem to be happier because there's that much less that can be taken away.
Since then, it's been 15 years and I have lived and made my share of mistakes. But every second, the one constant feeling has been its not worth it. Not worth crying for my dad. Not worth looking at those glossy means zilch titles that they offer you once in a while, when you are working for too long, not worth trying to keep your family happy and expecting them to just realize that you are doing it for them, not worth fretting on which school your child will get ijlnto, not worth saving for a stock market crash that may or may not happen, not worth pitching dimes for retirement , not worth falling in love, etcetera.
None of these things are wrong. Obviously.
But having put in some effort in all of these and a 100 other pursuits, I realize it's not worth it.
You are creating a sand castle and protecting it from the waves. If it breaks a bit, you double down abd try to fortify it .
But what if, it's broken. The fortifi action is temporary. The castle is temporary. The waves are permanent.
It's just broken.
I haven't mediated enough to get any sort of relocation or even a glimpse, but if life slaps you hard enough for long enough, sometimes u self realize.
Broken be it. On the rocks pls.
