Fragmentarium

by SULI QYRE

331. What You Must Do

If someone you didn’t know told you that you absolutely must do something, you wouldn’t believe them. You’d be deeply skeptical of their claim. If the person seemed especially serious, you might ask for clarification or some kind of explanation. You’d want reasons to justify whatever it is you’re being told you must do.

If you were provided with reasons and they were convincing, you would then move to negotiation. You’d complain that what you’ve been told sounds too complicated or involved. You’d argue that you couldn’t possibly be expected to put in so much effort. Surely you don’t need to do exactly this. Surely there must be something else that would do the job adequately.

If you were told that you cannot alter what is required and you must do exactly this, you would shift to denial. You’d declare that you don’t actually need to do it. You’d assert that you are the master of your own life. You’d proclaim that you make your own choices. After all, you don’t have to do what anyone tells you, and no one can penalize you for making a different choice.

If you were then told that there will be a penalty and it will be devastating but subtle, undermining you at every turn and haunting you without end, you simply would not accept it. You’d say that the consequences could not possibly be so terrible. You’d say that this must be a lie. You’d say that if this were somehow true then you’d rather just deal with the penalty when it comes. And then you’d go on living your life exactly as you did before you encountered this strange person claiming to know what you must do.

In the end, you’re right about at least one thing: no one can tell you what to do. Only you can see for yourself what you must do. Only then will you be willing to take it on as your own personal necessity.

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