No choice in the matter

How dare you believe yourself to have the luxury of pitying yourself? There’s simply no time in one life to cycle through such ardors. You don’t know what your story means to those who have the pleasure of witnessing you. Have you forgotten what you are? Or is the amnesia a version of colluded pleasantry? May you stand taller when those narrowed eyes seek to constrict you. May your posture rise to the light that mirrors you. May you work no harder than you can handle. I wish this for you. You don’t know what you mean. To the world. To this universe. A speck of dust turned to myth in all that you’ve become. Fragile and minuscule in this cosmic vastness. Yet, there you are. Continuing. Still pulsing with naïveté in a life you have yet to understand. How dare you doubt the stardust spent to compose you? You don't have a choice. Forward is the way and the choice bestowed upon you. You bear the burden of those who ache for another day of breathing life. Those who never came to be. Yet, you argue with your flesh as if it owes you. As though you’re entitled to its grace. It’s a privilege to experience the passage of time. A privilege to know strength and frailty in one’s lifetime. A wonder to see the tide hug alongside sandy earth. A phenomenon to see the shifting seasons. How lucky, despite your forgetful disposition. I wish this remembrance to embrace you. I wish you would stop shackling yourself to your woes, as if they’re all yours to know. Pass along your pain as you do your joy. As the water releases its currents. Not carelessly, but with fearless release. Your joy isn’t eternal, nor is your devastation. It is lost on me that you clutch both with such suffocation. Is it your first time being human? That must be the only explanation. For it is an absolute abhorrence to waste such precious energy on a false dwelling, made of your own volition.