Twenty Something Tales: why we suck
How is it, that we surround ourselves with so many doubts as we go along? Identity, talents, emotions, conscience, rationality. It does give room to a count of crises to consider.
Can I? What will people think of me? Is something wrong with me? Where is my place? Which part should I play? Who am I? Do I have values or limits? Do I need them? Screw it! Will I ever accomplish anything besides feeling sorry for myself? It’s all about the me! I’m sick of myself. Yes, I should get off my couch and do something about it. Why don’t I?
It was supposed to be easy. We have grown to facilitate in so many ways our livelihood. But then it makes us all depressed to have a certain amount of reach at every possibility in the world. Because how on earth could one overtake all of that?
But if at our modern day which gives us tools to cover our heads and spin around in despair with the magical infamous search for everything that will make us whole, why is it, that back in the day, when it was actually unknown how vast our surroundings were, people were also depressed?
We can attain and internalize how happiness is under or overrated (whichever), that love comes to those who are not expecting it, that your career might implode or might as well stay at that limbo for good and which way is fine, or that anthroposophy says that every single living thing goes through the same phases and thoughts, or that there is a God above everything else whom loves and cherishes our existences, or that karma or some kind of secret (not really) laws of universe will make sure you get what you deserve, that the fate — and faith — should catch you giving your very best. And yet. It can never ease our minds.
By the examples shown on the news, specially when it comes to politics, I’m supposed to believe, at the age of twenty four, that success histories happen with whatever kind of effort you pull out, even if your intentions are not very honest or fair. By social standards in pretty much the majority of human minds what is considered normal or less prejudicial is to be white, christian, straight, male, not ancient nor much young, with no disabilities, well-employed (if not rich) and from an internationally recognized respectable citizenship. Let’s please not fit that criteria (it has the makings of a douche, really. Sorry, empirical.). By family and friends I’m expected to make them all proud, provide for their welfare when they cannot and offer unconditional love and loyalty above everything else. No wonder we could not do it all.
So, blend it all together, somehow, I have to fit in, somewhere in that spectrum of perfection or happiness no one could or should ever afford, knowing that even if I try my hardest, or at least go through my best options, I will never have everything I want.
Could you blame me for being exhausted even though I haven’t even started anything?