No Consent Given

Letters from the Past.

If I didn’t ask to come into this world,
why does this world act like it owns me?

Why am I expected to stay—
willingly—
to be consumed
by a system of rules
I never had the chance to create?

Am I here
to perform,
to witness,
to endure—
as if I signed a contract
I’ve never seen?

I didn’t choose the rules.
I didn’t choose the timing.
I didn’t choose the weight of it.
I didn’t even get to choose my own parents—
the very people who decided I would be here.

And still—
I’m the one expected to carry it.

Gracefully.
Quietly.
Properly.
Gratefully.

That’s the part that never made sense to me.
And it never will.

It feels less like living
and more like being assigned.

We’re allowed to leave everything else.

Families.
Conversations.
Relationships.
Jobs half done.

We walk away
the moment something stops aligning,
the moment it stops feeling right.

But not this.

This is the only thing
you’re forced to continue—
even when it drains you,
even when it breaks you,
even when it doesn’t feel like living at all.

No one gives permission
to step out of this life.
To refuse the role.
To say: this is not for me.

Instead, you’re told to adjust.
To fix yourself.
To find meaning.
To keep going.

As if the problem is you.

Some of us can’t do that.

Some of us feel everything—
every pressure,
every contradiction,
every empty expectation.

We don’t just live it.
We see it.

And seeing it
doesn’t make it easier.

It makes it heavier.

So we write.
We question.
We try to explain it
in a way that makes sense—
even if it never fully does.

And maybe—
just maybe—
someone out there is reading this,
quietly nodding,
not because it solves anything,
but because it finally says it
without pretending.

Life is hard—
everyone says that.

So they sell you answers.
Plans.
Cures.

But there is no cure
for seeing too much.

Some people are born
to notice everything
and refuse to pretend it’s fine.

And that might be the real truth:

they’re not broken.
They’re just not willing
to lie to themselves
in order to stay.

And if we ever listened—
really listened—
to what they are trying to say,

this might finally become
a world worth staying in.