It never happens the way it is portrayed in media, but we don't care. Blindly, we march ever forward.
I know. That seems depressing, doesn't it? The thought that most of our dreams will never come true, that we're stuck with ourselves as we are tastes so bitter. But there's a bright side to not getting all that we dream and the revelation that the images we see are little more than images depicting fantasy world.
Low expectations mean less disappointment. It doesn't get any more simple than that. If you expect to be hurt, the happiness that follows when you're not is just that much more exciting and titillating.
No such thing as "happy endings." And I'm not talking about massage here, I am talking about the fact that you're just not going to ride off into the sunset with your Prince/Princess Charming. More than likely, you're going to fall asleep in a lawn chair while Ambassador Average snores next to you.
They aren't coming to your funeral. Usually, about half of the people who say they love you, that they adore you will even show up to say goodbye at your funeral. The ones who will show up, however, are the drama queens who will gnash their teeth and proclaim how much they loved you while you were alive - but they were rarely there when you needed them most. I remember going through a pretty wicked bout of depression where producing even the energy to take a breath was met with another temptation to jump off a bridge. Very few of my so-called "loved ones" actually gave a shit, and even fewer did anything about it. You're no different than me - we're all in the same boat and there aren't enough life preservers. Better learn to swim...
Our struggles contribute to our identity. Like it or not, we are the sum total of our experiences. The losses and the joys we experience throughout our lives define us, mold us into the persons we are right now. Even as you read this, your inner struggle is at its very core, aftershocks of those defining moments.
Go to the gym all you want and tell the world about it, but, you're still a fat ass. You are not your weight, you are not the breadth and girth of your muscles. You are who you are on the inside and if the inside of you is evil, it doesn't matter how you try to dress it up - you're a douchebag. Those who love you, who love the very essence of who you are won't give a damn how many hours you spend at the gym, so just stop it. Sure, stay healthy, but don't be an asshole about it.
Little things matter. Forget the vacation in Belize, the yacht club, the diamonds around your neck - what matters is the feel of that person's touch when the diamonds were placed there. That simple smile from across a crowded room that made your heart flutter. The smiles of those who truly, passionately love you...these are the things that really matter. I've been with a lot of people in those last hours and my friends, they didn't give a damn about the outcome of the Superbowl, they cared that someone was there, holding their hand and that they didn't have to make the journey to the other side alone. I know it sounds morbid but close your eyes and really think about it. You know I'm right.
Being alone sucks. We all strive for those intimate moments with ourselves where we can do a little personal inventory - some self-exploration. Bullshit. Being alone is horrifying, lonely and depressing as hell. When given the chance, spend your time with someone or some folks that you care about and who care about you. This introspective pabulum that is spewed in our direction is bile, it's useless. Solitude stinks.
Reality is one great big bitch with warts on her nose and breath like a dragon. But living in reality is insanely more rewarding than living in a dream world, trying to attain something that will never be in our reach.
When we allow this revelation to engulf us, our food tastes sweeter, the air smells more clear and fresh, and people begin to really matter. After all, that's what counts. It doesn't matter if you're the perfect cook, the perfect wife, the perfect husband because anyone who thinks and expects you to be is completely insane. Even the Christian faith itself is predicated on an apprehension of the knowledge that, in essence, people suck and left to our own devices, will never be able to do shit about it. There's freedom there, friends. Real freedom.
Of course this is just my opinion and I could be wrong, but I seriously doubt it.