You can only, and only need be, You

I can tell you what the Voidon contagion feels like. At its core, one feels as though, they do not love their life they live; it fails them, somehow, in some way that you can’t change. That hatred for being alive in the life you have may not have outward circumstances that should be obviously grievous. The loss of any sense of serenity in one’s being, as it exists as though stretching far beyond, throughout the cosmos, crossed with the lack of satisfaction with any of the available ways of being alive, combined with the self-reproach for not forging the willpower and luck, but furiously refusing to humbly accept the situation with grace, even in that present moment, is the real reason a Kolparian cannot live here as a child of Forever.

Those words are me, using some creative elements to metaphorically describe phenomena of the emotional life. They could be the words of Merriwyn Di Archiere, the character so interested in saving the potential utopia around here, as found in stories such as Sunstrike and Company: The Infinite Pyramid.
Just earlier, Angela was asking me if I would ask questions, to get to know the point-of-view character, Clay, better, in ways that differentiate the life he lived before this story, from mine. I said, I've mostly just listened to him, as he progressed through the divergent plots. But "Voidon" is a mythological way of talking about Negative Feelings, just as "Kolpar" is a way of talking about Earth. Why haven't we made of it, a utopia, anyway? It seems we must cope with those who amass resources in ways that privilege few. We almost must cope with ourselves. Some, like you, will continue with me here, down this path of using- I can't believe it- what I'm uncovering from my own fiction-for what I've uncovered within our own lives. I really thank you, for finding this worthwhile! I hope I'm articulating something genuinely useful.

A person might still try to make life better for those he encounters, even while bearing such despair as described. Refusal to trust in the life one has forged for one’s self-one’s own choices of lifestyle- leads to pitiless self-pity.

The decision to trust in love and creativity- the choice to relax, which was not given as readily to the multitude of people in the past- gives a person the ability to witness, examine, this portion of their will, if it exists, yet respond well to the things they’ve chosen with which to nourish themselves. We spend our days, nourishing the psyche and body; we strive to understand the results in which we then live.

This is the hardest to bear: to circumvent the very root of our own discord, at our own inability to actually leap from life style to life style, up to the moment it bores us, or does not bring us satisfaction. To relax and enjoy imagination- the same visualization tool air traffic pilots use to safely direct plane navigation, as that of the singular poet, articulating her own past lives discovered in outward peace (for when our dramas less distract our daily lives, there are more layers of being)- rather than burn with hatred for our inability to try absolutely every version of our life possible in our day.

When that limitation is recognized, here begins the real search for opportunity, to find what activities would fit in any sequence of life events. Here, it becomes clear why there’s no use in our futile protestations. They become more time spent not pursuing our loves.