Because I don't know what it is I'm letting go of.
I feel infinite compassion for all beings, without feeling pride in myself. I feel like Yoda, an old man with broken legs, weary, pushing forward step by step, with an infinite weight attached to my legs... But I push forward because compassion itself is the unconditioned, the unborn, if it's something we lack. No hurting others, no hurting self, no hurting the world. Love others, love self, love the world. But still... it hurts... Changing how I think hasn't solved anything. It just makes it easier for me to keep my house in order, easier to make my mom happy, sometimes it's Zen-like focus while others times stuff is a blur and I have to take things slow.
The best things in life aren't things.