I envy my husband. He is a good man. He is positive, helpful, jovial, and he loves to be happy. He is always happy. He is well loved by most everyone. He awakens with gentleness in his heart each day, and always asks me how I slept every morning, I am told I’m loved often, he’s always smiling, he enjoys going to work, helping others, and he seems to appreciate every little experience in life. I envy his ignorance. I envy that he cannot see the meaninglessness of life, how utterly absurd and pointless it all is. He enjoys the games of life, and I struggle to participate because I feel like I can see through those games. This ‘realization’ makes it so difficult to derive joy from anything unless I actively work to shift my focus away from the feelings of Meaninglessness. Many tell me to have a child, but I do not wish to inflict existence upon an innocent being. My one token of happiness to make these thoughts bearable, is watching a good man I dearly love genuinely enjoying his life experience. I have never told him that I feel this way, because I don’t want him to realize what I have. It is increasingly lonely, because it would be nice to have the support of someone who understands. But it is not worth risking the overall satisfaction my husband has of his life. I don’t mind continuing to live, trying to be a good person, and finding meaning and joy wherever I can, however absurd I find existence to be.