Does it seem unfair that most of us are born into emotional debt? Our parents love us from before Day One, and thereafter we can’t unlive, or live unwell, without hurting them – not to mention those whose love we accrue over the following years. Being loved is a blessing, or so I hear, but it’s also bondage.
Sometimes I want to kill myself out of protest, but: 1) even depressed and anhedonic, I know that hurting those who love me is wrong; 2) it’s possible that I chose to be here and accept this debt; and 3) the One I’d be protesting against would likely not be sympathetic.
I guess it’s best to accept my powerlessness and try to do what I’m here for – working to minimize suffering. Unfortunately, in my decades on Earth (and especially in the last year), I’ve dug myself in a pretty deep pit, and this whole idea that life is work and that there’s really no way out of it is rather foreign – hard to teach an old dog new tricks. Also, “minimize suffering” in my case seems to mean living a dull, somewhat wretched existence after having lived “the good life”.
So I keep returning to the protest, which does me no good, but just saps my will. But it’s a distraction from life’s suckiness, I guess.