There’s a couple of things that I can’t ever live without anymore as a First Worlder, regardless of how insane that might sound to people who have it worse. When I say can’t I obviously mean ‘I really really really don’t want to‘ even though it definitely wouldn’t actually kill me, but you catch my drift.
It’s things like my dishwasher.
I will never go back to doing dishes by hand. Even though I have these slap-in-the-face-realisations that it’s horrendous to think like that while I live in a world where people have to do dishes by hand every day. Hell. In a world where people don’t even HAVE dishes. Hellll. In a world where people don’t HAVE dishes OR anything (like food) they could use them for.
Yet – I fucking hate doing dishes even in light of the terrible lives of others. So I still view it as a necessity to own a dishwasher. Insane but true.
I mean: we grow SO accustomed to our lucky lifestyles so fucking fast that losing grip on reality becomes an actual serious issue.
I could totally do without a dishwasher. But I don’t want to, or feel that I should. And I live in a world where that is seen as a normal need to have. No problem.
Same goes for my bathtub that lives next to my shower. I don’t wanna live bathless life ever again. While there’s people that haven’t bathed in months. Or at all. Or my Smart TV. While there’s people who only have the rats and roaches as entertainment. My five different perfumes in a world where there’s people living in the stench of a sewer.
And as much as I like to think that I feel enough happiness for the things I have. That I am grateful enough for the life I was granted just merely based on where I was born. That I am considerate enough for those who have it worse and that I’m kind enough to share the joys…I know that that can’t possibly be the case.
Because I don’t even know what I could be missing. I have no concept of how bad it could be. And I still find myself yelling at the dishwasher when a bowl comes out of it with a smudge. I live in a life of luxury problems and I fear that the worst of them is that I’m not even inclined to solve that.
I feel like my lack of guilt in that regard makes me a horrible person while simultaneously feeling very strongely about not having to/wanting to feel guilty about something I can’t solve or control. It’s an interesting duality, no?
I guess feeling bad about living a luxurious life is also a luxury problem. Damnit. Spoiled to the bone.