Darkover
Angelic
- Jul 29, 2021
- 4,909
To be born is to be imprisoned in a system where your suffering is dismissed,
where even the most basic right—to leave—is held hostage by those who claim to care.
The worst part of not wanting to exist is knowing that other people have power over whether you can leave. Laws, social expectations, and biological instincts all work together to trap you here. Even if you've made up your mind, society doesn't care. It tells you that your suffering isn't enough, that you must keep going for the sake of others, as if their feelings matter more than your pain.
It's suffocating to realize that your own life isn't fully yours. If you try to leave, people will intervene. They will call it help, but it's really just control—forcing you to keep playing a game you never wanted to be part of. You don't get a choice in being born, and when you decide you've had enough, that choice is stolen from you, too.
There's no dignity in being forced to endure suffering just because others say you should. They will say, "Things can get better," as if hope is a promise rather than a lie used to keep people in line. The world demands that you keep struggling, not because it cares about you, but because it needs bodies to keep everything running.
Wanting to leave is seen as a defect, as if it's unnatural to reject a life filled with pain, disappointment, and exhaustion. But what's truly unnatural is the idea that you must stay alive against your will, that you must justify your suffering while others get to dictate whether it's "bad enough" to warrant an escape.
It's a cruel system. And it's one you never agreed to.
There is no real autonomy in existence. From the moment you're born, other people make decisions for you—what you eat, where you live, what you believe. Even as you grow older, you are bound by expectations, obligations, and the fear of consequences if you stray too far from what society deems acceptable. But the most suffocating realization comes when you understand that even your right to leave is controlled by forces outside yourself.
You never consented to being born, yet you are expected to endure life no matter how much suffering it brings. If you express a desire to leave, you are met with resistance—not understanding, not support, just resistance. People call it "help," but what they really mean is control. They don't want to lose you, not because they care about your suffering, but because they fear the discomfort of your absence.
The world is built on the assumption that life is inherently valuable, that staying alive is always the right choice. But that assumption disregards the reality of suffering. It forces people to keep going, even when every day feels unbearable. It demands justification for wanting to leave but never requires justification for forcing someone to stay. Society punishes you for even considering escape—labeling you as unstable, selfish, or in need of correction. They put up barriers: legal, medical, and emotional, all designed to keep you trapped.
They tell you to hold on, that things might get better. But what if they don't? What if the years ahead are just as empty, just as painful? Hope is dangled like a carrot on a stick, an illusion to keep you moving forward, but never a guarantee of relief. And even if you could leave, you must do so in secret, hiding your intent like a criminal because others believe they have the right to interfere.
It is one of the cruelest contradictions: life is forced upon you without consent, yet you are denied the right to reject it. You are expected to endure for the sake of others, even when your suffering outweighs any conceivable joy. The decision to stay or go should belong to the individual, yet it is stolen, wrapped in layers of obligation, guilt, and imposed meaning.
where even the most basic right—to leave—is held hostage by those who claim to care.
The worst part of not wanting to exist is knowing that other people have power over whether you can leave. Laws, social expectations, and biological instincts all work together to trap you here. Even if you've made up your mind, society doesn't care. It tells you that your suffering isn't enough, that you must keep going for the sake of others, as if their feelings matter more than your pain.
It's suffocating to realize that your own life isn't fully yours. If you try to leave, people will intervene. They will call it help, but it's really just control—forcing you to keep playing a game you never wanted to be part of. You don't get a choice in being born, and when you decide you've had enough, that choice is stolen from you, too.
There's no dignity in being forced to endure suffering just because others say you should. They will say, "Things can get better," as if hope is a promise rather than a lie used to keep people in line. The world demands that you keep struggling, not because it cares about you, but because it needs bodies to keep everything running.
Wanting to leave is seen as a defect, as if it's unnatural to reject a life filled with pain, disappointment, and exhaustion. But what's truly unnatural is the idea that you must stay alive against your will, that you must justify your suffering while others get to dictate whether it's "bad enough" to warrant an escape.
It's a cruel system. And it's one you never agreed to.
There is no real autonomy in existence. From the moment you're born, other people make decisions for you—what you eat, where you live, what you believe. Even as you grow older, you are bound by expectations, obligations, and the fear of consequences if you stray too far from what society deems acceptable. But the most suffocating realization comes when you understand that even your right to leave is controlled by forces outside yourself.
You never consented to being born, yet you are expected to endure life no matter how much suffering it brings. If you express a desire to leave, you are met with resistance—not understanding, not support, just resistance. People call it "help," but what they really mean is control. They don't want to lose you, not because they care about your suffering, but because they fear the discomfort of your absence.
The world is built on the assumption that life is inherently valuable, that staying alive is always the right choice. But that assumption disregards the reality of suffering. It forces people to keep going, even when every day feels unbearable. It demands justification for wanting to leave but never requires justification for forcing someone to stay. Society punishes you for even considering escape—labeling you as unstable, selfish, or in need of correction. They put up barriers: legal, medical, and emotional, all designed to keep you trapped.
They tell you to hold on, that things might get better. But what if they don't? What if the years ahead are just as empty, just as painful? Hope is dangled like a carrot on a stick, an illusion to keep you moving forward, but never a guarantee of relief. And even if you could leave, you must do so in secret, hiding your intent like a criminal because others believe they have the right to interfere.
It is one of the cruelest contradictions: life is forced upon you without consent, yet you are denied the right to reject it. You are expected to endure for the sake of others, even when your suffering outweighs any conceivable joy. The decision to stay or go should belong to the individual, yet it is stolen, wrapped in layers of obligation, guilt, and imposed meaning.