Unpopular opinion: Most responsibilities in our lives deserve to be ignored.
I was probably the most nonchalant human being in my family. When my father was working, he was an influential man. People handled most of the household work around him. I was just there. Watching. Like an audience member with popcorn.
At some point, I asked for a dog. Or a cat. Something normal. My mother said she already had me and didn’t want another one at home. That was brutal, even for a kid like me.
Anyway, childhood was like that. No responsibilities. Full freeloader mode. Going on all-expenses-paid trips to wherever I was allowed to go. Life was sorted without me doing anything about it.
Then came teenage life.
And suddenly, responsibilities appeared out of nowhere.
“Control your feelings.”
“Behave well.”
“Score good marks.”
They weren’t exactly responsibilities, but they felt like pressure dumped on me without warning. How was I supposed to do any of that? Did anyone actually learn this somewhere? Or are we all just pretending we know?
I was expected to pick it up from where others left off. Like I was part of some relay race I didn’t even know had started. I didn’t pay an electricity bill till I was twenty. I had never stepped into an electricity board office, or a post office, or even a bank.
The first time I did, it felt like I had walked into a museum. Everything looked stuck in time. The people, the pace, the energy. The employees moved like that sloth from Zootopia. And I was standing there with zero patience.
Then came bachelor life.
I chose to move out. I wanted to experience life. The struggles, the pain, all of it. It felt like something I had been kept away from for too long.
So I tried it. PG life. Splitting bills. Doing chores. Managing things on my own. I started liking it. I romanticised adulthood like a fool. It felt new. It felt like progress. But something else came along with it. Loneliness.
I had friends. They had their own lives. I wasn’t at the top of anyone’s list, so I slowly got opted out. It wasn’t dramatic. Just… gradual.
Then came love.
Very tedious job. Would not recommend. Also expensive. Unless you have money saved or some ancestral wealth lying around, it’s a risky investment.
But heartbreak does one thing well. It turns you into a poet. Once is fine. You can call it an honest mistake. Do it again and again… you’re just being a dumbass.
And then comes marriage.
That’s when you sign up for the full package of responsibilities. House. Family. Kids. Education. Retirement. You don’t really get to sit idle anymore. Even for a bit. Running away from responsibilities at this stage feels like betrayal. Not just to yourself, but to your entire bloodline. Society has turned this into a personality trait. If a man is doing nothing, he’s useless. He’s not important. He doesn’t care about his family. Or maybe… he just needs a break.
Nobody considers that.
The irresponsible ones, the ones who genuinely don’t care, are already living life on their own terms. Even if it’s chaotic.
But the rest of us? We just keep showing up. Handling things. Not because all of it matters. But because we were told it does.
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