We are always told to put others before ourselves. To do otherwise would be selfish. Yet we mustn’t ask others to put us before themselves either. That would be selfish too. In the end, no one is put first, so we all just wallow in some kind of half-arsed compassion cesspit.
You’re just not allowed to make yourself happy. You must do what will please others. You must not be yourself. You must be the self that others wish you to be. And if you do choose to do something of your own free will, you are not allowed to enjoy it. No, you must feel guilty for being so selfish.
So we live our lives with the sole purpose of doing just enough to avoid the guilt, while not doing quite enough to makes things better for anyone else either. It’s all just one big beige doormat full of half smiles and insincere mutterings of “how are you?” (a question you are never permitted to answer honestly) until we die as politely and quietly as we can. And our epitaph will read, “They were rather nice. Never stepped on any toes.”
And we are expected to be quite satisfied with that.
I want to be selfish.