Everything happens for a reason. People face adversity because it allows them to grow in unimaginable ways. Horace, the famous Italian poet, latched onto the belief that talent developed from struggle, yet this type of thinking was merely a safety net shielding him from the unforgiving reality that occurrences in life are a harsh draw of cards, a random yet turbulent ocean humanity flings itself into. People have fallen victims to this fallacy, forever lost in the illusion of reaching a glistening shore. However, oftentimes life just sucks, and what doesn’t kill you doesn’t make you stronger either; it just makes you wish you were dead.

Most historical and modern tragedies, from the assassination of Abraham Lincoln to the millions of people around the world facing a terminal illness, are instilled with a hope that it will all be worth it one day. Maybe if it weren’t for Lincoln’s death, the many well-acclaimed civil rights activists whom carried on his legacy would have never felt the courage to rise up and take a stand for social equality. What if he were a martyr, not just a president? What if Lincoln falling on the ground of that opera house was the fire that lit what we now know of as I Have a Dream, or the March on Washington, or even the Black Lives Matter movement occurring today? Yes, Lincoln may have been regarded as a martyr, but his death, like most other deaths, was not what brought along the progress in America. Equating his main contribution to social justice as his death is doing a disservice to his life. The Emancipation Proclamation was no tragedy, and the American Dream is no product of adversity. People are not more successful because of their pain and alcoholism does not create great writers. Terminal illness is something that should be regarded as sad yet manageable, not as an opportunity for growth.

One of the main flaws in American society is the constant thirst for a sob story. The world seems to run on this perverse desire for rags to riches mainly because riches are so hard to come by. All effective storytellers know how to create something that sells. First off, make the protagonist come from a broken family; remember, more dead family members equate to more people tuning in. Better yet, make the character an orphan. His or her parents divorced because one of them was abusive and the other was mentally ill. Later into the protagonist’s life, one parent died of cancer and the other got hit by a car. The truth is insensitive, but it is important to note that nearly all Disney protagonists are orphans and that Romeo and Juliet, possibly the most well known work of literature in human history, ends with both of them committing suicide.

This romanticized idea of tragedy may appear far-fetched, yet it is as if people need some form of suffering in order for their lives to have substance. The clearest memory I have from interacting with children is from when I was babysitting two little girls who played with barbies for hours on end. While combing the dainty blonde hair of a doll, one girl talked to the other all about how in their make-believe world both of their parents were dead and how they had to save the kingdom without any guidance. However, this thinking pattern is not just some childhood phase. People all around me, from high school to retirement homes all seem to love comparing their problems, constantly trying to one-up each other’s pain and blabbing on and on about how much worse they have it than everyone else. Rarely do I encounter empathy, but the potential for understanding around me is drowned out by the monotonous phrases such as “At least this will be a learning opportunity!” or “It could be worse! Now you can use what you’ve discovered to better yourself,”. Yet the thought that you must experience pain in order to become a better person is senseless, because that leads people to think that there is something inherently wrong with having a happy, fulfilling life.

Although battling adversity is not an easy task, it is so vehemently encouraged due to the pure hatred of continuity. Like mentioned before, nothing symbolizes the American Dream better than the classic concept of rags to riches, despite the likelihood of growth being significantly lower than the chance of consistency. Sadly, no one ever hears about anything other than the defeat of hardship because the rich kid who go richer or the poor kid who sold drugs and paid for it with his life are thought of as nothing more than stories that “bum people out”. This belief that everything happens for a reason, this craving for a fascinating plot, not only reduces the hardships that people experience to stories, but destroys the beauty of mundane, simple joy. My personal troubles are not beautiful; I do not consider them an opportunity for growth. Although they are a part of me, I would trade them for millions of unseen sunsets, kisses I’ve missed, and words that never came out above the tears, because in the end, attempting to justify the pain one feels is as useless as attempting to justify one’s happiness.