In my way to enlightenment, I crashed my head into a pile of bricks.

In a vision, I saw what appeared to be a giant clear crystal quartz glimmering in godly light. If only I could get my head right into the center of it, I’d see everything, I thought, and proceeded toward it. As I reached it, at first, all I saw was black; then, I felt the dust of a brick wall crashing on my head and falling all over me.

“Well, this is not what I expected,” I thought as I dusted myself off.

Then came the realization; I don’t want to be a saint. It’s a shitty job. It’s too hard. It’s too boring. It’s too self-sacrificing. I rather live and enjoy my life in comparison to worrying about every other adult’s life and their sins, their worries, their life’s bullshit that simply is none of my god damned business. Let them worry about their growth difficulties, their childishness, their own naivety, selfishness, and stupidity. Let them worry about the Hell looming in front of them; how am I responsible for their lack of personal responsibility and laziness? Not my business.

Your issues are not my business.

You’re a grown-up, fucking deal. If you’re not a grown-up, well, one day, you will be, and you’ll be strong enough to deal with your life on your own, just like the best of us… and, perhaps you’re already better than your parents ever were.

Maybe not.

But that’s also none of my business.

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