Finding Purpose in Futility…
I have a very hard time trying to understand the point of enduring constant struggle in life.
I feel like I am struggling just to keep my head above water – always on the brink of drowning, always trying to find that last bit of strength, so tired that I am always yearning to let myself slip down into the dark, calm emptiness of an eternal sleep.
I look at other people and I just feel ENVY.
Why do they get to have such easy lives? Why do they get to have paths laid out before they’re even born? Why do they get everything given to them? Why do they get to live in these bubbles of entitlement and delusion?
Why can’t I live in a bubble of entitlement and delusion?
To be honest, I think too much. I analyze, I inspect, I wonder, and I strive for understanding. This is both a gift and a curse. When I’m feeling tired, it is a curse; I want to turn my brain off and just go through life with dull eyes and no concern or care or depth. I want to give up on trying to make a happy and fulfilling life for myself, and just go back to being the mule that everyone prods and whips and curses at – the mule that will work until it dies in the yoke and whose owners will then grumble about because its rotting corpse left a mess for them to clean up.
The thing I struggle with most is coming to terms with the high level of worthlessness I’ve always felt and still feel. I try to understand what the point of this feeling is, but there is no point. I feel worthless because I’ve always been TOLD I am worthless. I’ve always been TREATED like I am worthless. People treat me like this often – they tell me my perspective is unwanted and that I am unwanted, they go out of their way to try to hurt me (and laugh about it).
I’ve always inherently known I am worthless (of no use, importance, or value), because the things I think and my default behaviors are of no use, importance, or value in the materialistic world. I am a constant reminder to people of their of hypocrisy and emptiness and falsity because I, admittedly, do point out when people are acting like that. Because it really bothers me to see materialism in motion. Even when I don’t talk, though, my presence somehow reminds people of all the things they hate about themselves. And, so, they project that self-hate onto me: I am the one who receives their glaring eyes and sneering lips and cruel words so that they may save their pride and ego.
I “get” to receive their glaring eyes and sneering lips and cruel words.
See, I don’t have a choice. I’ve always been the one who is “hated”… That’s just a fact of my life. I don’t get to choose how other people see me. Nothing I’ve done to try to get people to accept or like me has ever worked. I’ve gone to great lengths to try to please people, I’ve done things that turn my stomach now – things that hurt me badly physically, mentally, emotionally – because I thought I needed to let other people get their way. And, that never helped. They still found something to hate about me. And so, it’s my lot in life to be hated. Thus, it’s my lot in life to be worthless. There’s no point in pretending otherwise.
Obviously, I do not like the idea of being inescapably worthless. Yet, I don’t see a way out of it. There really isn’t a way out of it as long as I’m around other humans – they are the ones who continue to try to force me into subservience, and it is they who have always made sure to say and do things to break my spirit any chance it tries to rise up.
So… repeating these ideas in my head, I think I’m loosely formulating an idea that could get me out of the trap of being consciously aware of and lost in ideas of worthlessness:
The materialistic world finds me worthless, this is an incontrovertible fact.
But, what if I completely REJECT that world?
I feel a confused, fuzzy-headed feeling when I think about that… How can I reject the world while still living in it?
On the one hand, I do reject the core principles of that world:
– Use others as much as you can (claim to care, mention ‘for their own good’ – they will acquiesce),
– Treat others as badly as you can (as long as they don’t notice and you don’t get arrested),
– Be as shallow as possible,
– Be as selfish as possible,
– Be as prejudiced as possible while still maintaining your guise of political correctness,
– Follow the leaders of your chosen clique and do as they say (lambaste anyone who voices dissent),
– Do not stand out; fit in as closely as possible,
– Hurt those who stand out.
On the other hand, I still have to live in this world. As much as I want to run away, I can’t… there’s nowhere to go. There is no secure place for a person like me. Anywhere I go is “owned” by another person or by a government. The only option I have is to buy my way to safety. And so, I am trapped in society by society’s rules and the lack of options I have at my disposal.
See, I have to “earn” anything I get. I have to work and struggle and scrimp and do all kinds of things just to get the scraps under the table. I do not and will never get to sit at the table. This is a fact. I was not born to sit at the table – anyone who looks at me could tell you this. People try to pretend, try to act like there’s really hope for someone like me, but we all know there isn’t. Anything I get will be because I made it happen – made it to a point that they could no longer refuse me. They’ll give me what I need, begrudgingly, but only after I’ve worked long and hard and ten times longer and harder than one of the “entitled” people have, for less pay, for less reward.
I try to think of ways to “get ahead”, but there are none that work if I wish to stay true to myself. I could easily meet my goals in a relatively short time period if I ignored my intuition. I could be unscrupulous and cold-hearted and conniving and cheating and ruthless. Honestly, that’s a very appealing idea – I’d get what I want, and I’d get a chance to exact revenge on some of the people who’ve screwed me over.
But, that won’t solve anything. I’ll still be me at heart. I’ll still be aware of the wrongdoing, and still be fully aware of my actions. I could do bad things and feel justified in doing so simply by telling myself a story about how “it’s MY time” or “I deserve this” or “nobody will stand in my way”, but it would catch up to me at some point. Everything catches up to me at some point.
So, I don’t have a choice. I have to struggle because I have to live cleanly in my heart, true to myself and my intuition. I hate that I don’t have a choice. I mean I do, technically, have a choice – but it is not a choice I am willing to choose: I will not sacrifice my humanity for profit.
And so, what is the point of struggle? There is no point. It’s just what I was born for, and it’s something I cannot escape if I want to be a person I can think of as “a good person”.
So, what is the purpose in this futile venture? What is my purpose?
I want to see myself as good and worthy of goodness.
There are good people in the world. They exist, I know they exist. I want to be a good person and I want to actively recognize that my struggles do help to make life better for others. I know it is not easy, I know it is not fun, I know it is painful. I know these things… but I still keep my head above water, I still move forward through the heartache and despair, still face the hopelessness and try to understand it.
I’ve never given up entirely; there’s some spark of rebellion in my heart – my core being – that can never be quelled. Honestly, I don’t want them to believe they’ve won. I don’t want them to have the satisfaction of thinking they’ve broken me. That’s my driving force: “If I give up, they’ve won.” I was born to be worthless to the world, but I was also born to find my own way.
To find my own way.
Finding my own way? I am worth it.