Bitter fruit

Evidently, I remain very bitter about my youth. The outside observer would say, “How selfish you are, with all your wealth, privilege and opportunities!”

And they would be right in some sense, although I personally don’t believe that wealth equates to happiness.

My frank-speaking other half would say, “It’s not like you were an impoverished, hopeless kid stuck in a refugee camp!” That too is very true.

And now even my inner voice berates me: “Nor were you raised on a sink estate, afflicted by gang warfare, mass unemployment and a broken home.”

“Nor were you the victim of rampant racial discrimination,” proffers my soul to boot. “Nor were you blind, disabled or deprived!”

So yes, okay, this is where I abort the post I had planned to pen, which kept me awake since dawn.

So you’re bitter that so many opportunities to diagnose obvious symptoms of a problem were missed, resulting in a decade of acute unhappiness? So what? Life is filled with tests and trials like these. That’s just the way of the world.

Nothing is to be gained from raking through the past. Discard those bitter fruit. Live in the present, prepared to write your own future.

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