Fragile consolation: the faint glimmer of a possibility
A human is born crying; it takes 26 years to understand why.
Every action is a formal delay of death.
The first day of school marks the end of childhood. The midpoint of life brings the burden of choices and the weight of direction. Then comes sudden maturity, arriving in a single night when you are forced to choose from options that barely resemble true freedom—choices preordained, almost predetermined, as if every person born must become something to justify their existence. It’s as though existence is a debt owed to your parents, society, and the world. And yet, perhaps, buried deep within your untouched core, a desire to be nothing lingers. Or, maybe, to be something simple—a farmer, a painter—something that lets you feel. Something that enables you to touch your humanity.
What is inevitable in this life? That it ends. And it truly ends when you surrender to paths laid out by others. Your life, as it stands now, is already over if it holds no connection to your most authentic desires. Even if you find fleeting moments of joy, something—a thought, an idea—will eventually drag you back down to the ground.
What is inevitable in this life? That you will suffer. In every phase of life, there will be pain your parents never warned you about. The loss of childhood. The confusion of graduation when you no longer know who you are. The crushing realization that your work defines you only as a replaceable cog in someone else's machine. The moment of clarity when you understand you are ordinary, that not everyone will love you, and that tears don’t always come with crying. That hope, realistically, is a lazy act. That life does not reward merit, nor is it fair. You lose the ability to play as you age, and you will watch your friends grow distant as they move on or disappear altogether.
What is inevitable in this life? That it is finite. Every second counts, and you will not live one moment longer than what was allotted. Life does not compensate you for miserable days—they are subtracted from your balance, becoming parts of your story. No span of happiness can erase days when even breathing felt impossible. Time does not erase time.
What is inevitable in this life? That you will lose what you love. Eventually, you will have to let go of your family, friends, and a job you once cherished. Life demands new sacrifices at every stage, each more painful than the last.
What is inevitable in this life? You cannot change the past, nor can you predict the future. Everything shifts constantly. All you truly have is this moment. The future is not promised and could vanish before it arrives. The past cannot be altered—it does not exist in the now.
The certainty of life is that it is painful—a relentless tide that ebbs and flows, carving its mark on the soul. Yet, within this unyielding truth lies its quiet, fragile consolation: the faint glimmer of a possibility, however distant, that happiness might one day find you.