Heart can't have it all says mind

         There are days when life feels like a classroom with two teachers arguing at the front. One is Dostoevsky, stern and intense, insisting that truth, no matter how painful, it is the only way to truly live. The other is Kafka, quiet but tired, saying softly that illusions are sometimes kinder, that not every truth deserves to be faced. And you sit there, wondering which one to listen to, knowing that both sound right depending on what day it is.

                        

        Dostoevsky’s words strike a nerve. “It is better to suffer and know the truth than to be happy in a delusion.” There’s a brutal honesty in that line. He’s the voice that tells you to stop pretending the job you hate will suddenly fulfill you, or that a one-sided relationship will one day balance out (oh, you've got to be kidding me). He represents that moment when you rip off the bandage, cry a little, and finally breathe again. It’s raw, but it’s real. The kind of pain that cleans you.

        Then there’s Kafka. “I would rather keep my illusions, for they are often kinder than the truth.” And honestly? There are days that feel too fragile to handle the full weight of reality. Sometimes you need your little delusions just to get through the week. Believing things will get better, even when there’s no proof (if you get the proof, RUN!). Pretending the world is gentler than it really is. That tiny self-deception can be a form of self-preservation, a soft blanket we wrap around our cracked edges.

        It’s easy to call illusions cowardice, but they’re not always that. They’re sometimes the imagination’s way of saying, “You’re not ready yet.” Every truth comes with its own emotional cost, and not everyone can afford it all the time. There’s something tender in the way illusions protect us until we’re strong enough to face what lies beneath them. Maybe they’re not lies after all, maybe they’re just temporary shelters.

        Still, truth has a strange pull. It hurts, yes, but it also frees us from the torment. Living in delusion is like trying to breathe underwater; you can do it for a while if you hold your breath, but eventually, reality catches up. The truth is heavy but grounding. It reminds us we’re alive, awake, and capable of change. There’s something deeply human about that awakening, even when it burns.

        But here’s the twist: most of us don’t live entirely on one side. We drift between the two. One day, we’re Dostoevsky, determined to face the truth no matter how much it breaks us. The next day, we’re Kafka, clinging to the sweetness of our illusions just to stay afloat. Maybe the real wisdom lies in knowing when to hold on and when to let go. 

        When I saw both quotes side by side, I found myself drawn to each. On some days, I want to be brave and face everything. On others, I just want to rest in the comfort of what I choose to believe. And maybe that’s perfectly human, to want both, to need both. Because life isn’t about always choosing truth over illusion or illusion over truth. It’s about knowing that each of them holds and comforts us in its own way, and that sometimes, being human means not choosing at all.