I indulged myself in my victim role for too long. I guess I wanted some honorary spot as a saint or a martyr in a Heaven that doesn’t even exist, through useless pain and suffering and egotistic self-sacrifice. Seeking the approval and companionship of angels and a divine presence who had never been there in the first place. There’s no one waiting for you up there to award you the golden medal of endurance. It’s more likely that they’re waiting for you to laugh at your own stupidity, at how you’ve wasted most of your time making a hell of your life down here only to realize in the end that there is no second chance.
Then I wanted to overcome my penchant for martyrdom by trying to become a lively heroine. It’s not that I wasn’t fit for that role. It’s not that my intention wasn’t praiseworthy. I just wanted to be the captain of my own ship, but I was arrogant enough to believe that I could sail with the help of no crew whatsoever.
The role of the hero is too preposterously dramatic: the eternal misunderstood loner. An individual who withdraws voluntarily from the rest of the world since they think their life goals cannot be shared with the rest of mortals. Their excellence is supposed to lie in being capable of withstanding the pressure of having been entrusted with a mission that will put their virtue to the test and make them reach glory. Thing is: where’s the fun in that? What’s the point if you’re not enjoying it at all?
Now, I’m just trying to lay my feet on the ground, as cold and hard as it may be. I just want to be a simple human, with simple goals such as simple happiness. The paradox is that this is even harder that any epic Odyssey and perhaps even much more ambitious. The road is equally lonely and sad, because the decisions are solely yours. The success and the failures are yours, the pain is yours and you need to let it settle. But I guess it’s easier, less worrisome, less selfish… You’re only responsible for yourself, you don’t owe yourself to anyone but you.
The path of acceptance is a hard one. Letting go, realizing that nothing lasts forever, not even you. That nothing will ever go back to what it used to be and trying is just a waste of time. I’m not saying that you need to put up with anything that’s thrown to you along your life, on the contrary. But wanting reality to adjust to your rigid mental structures will lead you to neurosis and eventually, death. It’s ok. Death is what is there at the end of the road. But at least let yourself get there when it’s due time, not out of frustration due to an unrealistic struggle, not as a means to reach an unearthly perfection, not to run away from a reality that is too overwhelming for you.
We’re only humans in the end. No need to be too hard on ourselves. This is nothing but a big dark comedy. Be sure to play your part without remorse or pride and fuck all the rest.