It always comes down to that.
And I understand it. I even accept it.
And on good days, it makes life more beautiful, more meaningful. On good days, I can totally cope, and embrace.
Then, there are moments like now.
I accept it, but I don’t like it, not one bit.
I’m like the kid that has been told by his parents that no, he is not getting a car for his 16th birthday.
No illusions. No false hope. It is what it is. If you’re from a reality like that, it’s obvious that that’s the case. You didn’t even have to ask, really, and certainly when you did and got your answer, you knew it to be true, and there was nothing that you could do to change it.
That doesn’t make it suck any less. It is not so very cool, this impermanence thing. Or at least, there are elements of it that are downright sad and, frankly, unjust.
But it is what it is.
There is nothing to do be done.
The only solace on the bad days is that I, too, am temporary, so whatever it is in my biography that I don’t like, I don’t have to worry, because:
(a) It will change again soon enough, and
(b) I won’t be here forever to be upset about it anyway.