Life is just hard. Even if you’ve managed to avoid mother nature’s curveballs, life is hard. Our own inner experience is so damn hard to interpret and navigate.
What do I really want? What will make me happy? What is the right thing to do? Am I fooling myself when I believe that the right thing to do is also the thing that makes me feel good? Is there a difference between accepting the possible and being too chicken-shit to reach for something better? Is “chicken-shit” really supposed to be hyphenated? Am I kidding myself that there really is a me asking me these questions?
Wouldn’t it be better if we just didn’t care? If we had no idea that these questions existed or mattered? Would that be blissful?
I don’t know. But I do know that I don’t have a choice. Like a virus, once you know the questions, you’re stuck trying to answer with them. Or, at least, grapple with them in some other way.
Today the questions kicked my ass.
Tomorrow is another day.
