Are you conditioned to be hopeful? I know I am. I'm conditioned to believe that things will somehow work out no matter how much suffering I endure. That any rough patch is only temporary and that my life will eventually (inevitably) become meaningful. Perhaps a superior being or life itself somehow has my best interests at heart, that all my suffering has a meaning...
If I assess things logically, it's obvious my suffering has no meaning whatsoever, that my future is utterly broken no matter how hard I try and how brave I might be. Yet this childish notion is extremely persistent and is rarely subjected to the logical scrutiny most of my other ideas are. I can't force my mind to accept the blunt, ugly truth about my existence; that I'm only getting older, the experiences I wanted are closed to me forever and there are scars that just never heal.
It's both puzzling and frustrating that this part of me is impervious to reason. It's such a naive and narcissistic proposition, but it's been drummed into me from such a young age that there's nothing I can really do about it. I feel utter contempt for people who wholeheartedly embrace this, most of society that is. The fact of the matter is they haven't received a dose of reality strong enough to make them challenge this notion in any serious way.
In the end though, perhaps this sense of hopelessness is just too much for my psyche to bear, but I want nothing more than to accept it. I get so close to ending my suffering, and this false sense of hope pulls me back from the brink every time, only for the cycle to start all over again. Except the contrast between this delusion and reality only becomes more stark and painful over time.
If I assess things logically, it's obvious my suffering has no meaning whatsoever, that my future is utterly broken no matter how hard I try and how brave I might be. Yet this childish notion is extremely persistent and is rarely subjected to the logical scrutiny most of my other ideas are. I can't force my mind to accept the blunt, ugly truth about my existence; that I'm only getting older, the experiences I wanted are closed to me forever and there are scars that just never heal.
It's both puzzling and frustrating that this part of me is impervious to reason. It's such a naive and narcissistic proposition, but it's been drummed into me from such a young age that there's nothing I can really do about it. I feel utter contempt for people who wholeheartedly embrace this, most of society that is. The fact of the matter is they haven't received a dose of reality strong enough to make them challenge this notion in any serious way.
In the end though, perhaps this sense of hopelessness is just too much for my psyche to bear, but I want nothing more than to accept it. I get so close to ending my suffering, and this false sense of hope pulls me back from the brink every time, only for the cycle to start all over again. Except the contrast between this delusion and reality only becomes more stark and painful over time.
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