Suffering in Another Lifetime Entirely

It almost feels juvenile to sit here thinking and questioning what our purpose is, as humans. That being said, I can’t help but notice: all I see is suffering. We’re designed in such a way that we are in constant turmoil, both inside and out. So terribly fragile and full of need. There are so many layers of this in all aspects of life that it’s really difficult for me to imagine we’re here for anything BUT suffering. It’s so essential to the human experience that possibly, it’s the whole point.

I’m trying to look back at times in my life that held the most meaning. It’s the suffering I had endured that made it mean anything at all. We hold fast to the good memories and remember them as we want to remember them. I do wonder if there’s something wrong with me or if other people also have a hard time remembering things as they were. I’d like to think I know all that I’ve endured, but I’m sure a large part of my memories have faded to questions. It may be for the sake of peace, rather than just to rob me of them. Either way, I see the harshness of the current truth everywhere and I feel the mistakes of my past aching in my scars. We’re not meant for a “fixed” kind of happiness.

Indulgence seems to be a well worn path to self destruction. There’s a price for comfort. There’s a punishment for existence. How do I make this worth the cost?