Bitterness has settled itself rather comfortably in our midst nowadays. Bitterness is not new, it has been known to man since the dawn of times. It feels, though, mostly because of the abundance of exposure, that bitterness is on the rise. You see people being bitter because their life is not at all what has been promised to them. Study hard, dream big, work hard, and it will all be given to you! Think the right thoughts, speak the proper words, do the righteous deeds, and no wrong can happen to you! And yet we all get slapped in the face with the harsh reality – no justice exists in the world, your freedom lasts as long as your chain does, no reward for your hard work, just survival. I am way too familiar with bitterness. It goes hand in hand with shame, with guilt. When you have felt guilty and ashamed for too long, you may grow bitter. It feels that no matter how much you try, nothing is ever right. You pour your heart and soul into your work, you are willing to give up all the little comforts for the sake of others, yet it is but a drop in the ocean. You strive, you overexert you mind, you give, you stretch yourself so thin, you become see through, yet nothing fundamentally changes. You see others do the same, yet it's all in vain. Millions of us, every day, pour our lives resources into the blind abyss, and all it does in return, is spit laughter back into our faces. We grow tired, disillusioned, and bitterness crawls into our souls. Why cannot we make things right? Why don't the promises we were given appear to forever be unfulfilled? We see others who seem to live differently. Others who do not follow the script, who either by the advantage of birth, or mere worldly luck, were granted a different fate. They sing praises to individual achievement, to the unstoppable drive for success, blind stubborn repetition of the “ You can do it!“s and ” Aim high!“s. Resentment joins your bitterness, and together the two sisters spin the tale of woe and intricately weave it into the canvas of your psyche. Why them, not me? The question is incessant. What have they done that I am incapable of? Envy may also want to join the party. And if nothing changes, no sudden good fortune enters your life, the three sisters of Bitterness, Resentment, and Envy may be joined by the grand, always thirsty, always on the prowl, always staring into the emptiness of the abyss, the lady of ruin, her majesty Greed. And once greed enters, a powerful cycle is set in motion. The myriad of needs, existential, or the spur of the moment kind, dance in mad rounds, round and round your wretched mind, day and night, whispering of the temptations and the urges of the world. And one may succumb to the stagnation, to despair, to anger. The whys never seem to end, and the answers are all but satisfactory. Exhausted, you seek blindly the surcease for your sorrows, yet, all you find are the neon signs that signal of virtues, whose names became a laughing stock for the vicious. The oblivion, you may find, but not for long, before the nagging needs knock at your door, reminding you yet again of all the ways you have failed. Cynical, disenchanted, you may grow cold and distant, lowering your chances of seeking support from fellow humans. Bitter, resentful, envious, greedy, you loathe the world, the people and yourself. What is this dark and twisted tale they have hidden in the bright and brilliant story of your years of yore? You don't want to see “the good” in the world. You cease to believe in “the good” of the people. The bleak blandness of the world overcomes you. Life is a cruel joke. What is there to live for?.. Out of this dull, ugly, unnecessarily complex world you emerge, as a shadow of your childhood self. Your innocence is crushed, your dreams are forgotten, and you long for nothing else, but the slumber of sleep. What do you do, after all the bitterness, resentment, after suffering so greatly from envy and greed? Out of this place, l have been lifted, not by a supernatural force of the unknown, not by the visions of utopian glory, not by power of myself alone, not by blind hope, or reckless enthusiasm. I have been lifted from the dirges of the modern tragedy, by the soft-spoken wisdom of the past, by the kind-hearted comrades who sought no benefit of their own, by the abundance of life itself, and the natural desire to help and be helped by the ones of my kind. And I extend my shaky, sweaty, nervous palm towards you and offer not a quick solution, a well needed oblivion, a flawless plan of exit. I offer human memory, that's in my blood, impressed in my DNA, as it is also in yours, of life that is possible, of the future that is not decided yet. My friend, take my hand, and at the very least, we'll grieve together.