Why do the things we cling to run?

In World History class, I was 15, we watched footage from the aftermath of Hiroshima. I cried when the mother carried her baby across the water, because by the time she had made it, the baby died. It hurts to think about now, how life is suffering. There's so much joy available, but we're so used to suffering, comfortable with it even, and maybe we prefer it, and we enjoy the pity we loathe. We're masochistic and sadistic. Unless...we detach from it all, and be free, and be nothing...that's what freedom is, to be separate from the threads that bind us to each other. Why does it have to be so hard? It doesn't have to be though does it, but gravity pulls you in, and pushes us together, adding weight, so that's existence in love: heavy. Togetherness, more, weight piles on. To be alone is to be free, but it is to be alone. Every choice is a paradox. Take on more, juggle more, more work, more compromise, confrontation. Commitment takes work, a weight to carry, and a mouth to feed. Maybe this is pessimistic, but in a way it's the truth, and it is what is. We don't want to admit it. We make each other feel bad for it, but love and connection has brought us here, just as equally hate and fear. Paradise is a chapter, a phase, like everything else, temporary. Why do the things we cling to run? Why do the things we resist come? It is the law of things. Things that go up, come down, and things that go underneath will rise up. What's the point of fixating on a point, a destination, when it's all to come, and the point at which it comes is where you are now. What's it feel like? You should already know. How do you feel in this moment? Will the future change anything, or will it be a masking, fleeting, unfolding? Yes, that's exactly what it'll be. So, just like Ram Dass eloquently imprinted it upon our minds, “Be here now.”