The Weight of the World

Sometimes, I find myself asking what’s the point of living in a world where it seems like someone is suffering every single moment, whether it’s because of circumstances or because of other people. It feels like pain is the default here, as if that’s the only way to exist. The world is full of hurt, and I feel it everywhere—whether in myself or others. More than anything, I’m tired of people making my life miserable, as if I somehow deserve it. So many times, they lash out at me, and blame me for things I have no control over, as if I’m the sole cause of everything that goes wrong. And it’s not just exhausting—it’s heartbreaking. I try to understand, to find the good, but in moments like these, when all I feel is the weight of this world, I wonder if it’s even possible. Why are people so harsh? Why do they allow themselves to hurt others? I don’t know how to find my way when reality feels so painful, but maybe, somehow, there’s a reason to keep going. I hope I’ll find it, but for now, all I can do is hold on to the small moments when this world feels a little less cruel.

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