Life is difficult for everyone; everyone has bad days. Everyone

Hear now the words of Domhnall Gleeson, the actor and thinker who spoke with quiet clarity about the nature of life: “Life is difficult for everyone; everyone has bad days. Everyone has trouble in their life, because it doesn’t matter how rich you are: Sickness and trouble and worry and love, these things will mess with you at every level of life.” In this truth, simple yet profound, lies the shared heartbeat of humanity — the reminder that suffering and struggle are not curses reserved for the few, but the common inheritance of us all. It is a statement of humility, but also of unity: that every soul, no matter how high or low, walks the same winding road through joy and pain, hope and despair.

To say that life is difficult for everyone is not to speak in pessimism, but in understanding. From the poorest laborer to the mightiest king, all must face the same trials of existence — sickness that humbles the body, worry that clouds the mind, and love that tests the heart. Gleeson’s words arise from a deep observation of the human condition, one echoed across centuries by poets, philosophers, and saints. It is the recognition that life, in its wisdom, spares no one from experience — that our joys are real only because they rise from the soil of hardship. The ancients would have called this the law of balance, the eternal rhythm by which all things are measured.

The origin of this wisdom lies not in luxury, but in empathy. Gleeson, though known for his artistry and fame, speaks as one who has seen beyond the illusion of privilege. He understands that wealth may shield a man from hunger, but not from heartache; it may buy comfort, but never peace. Suffering is the one language all can understand, for it teaches compassion. When he speaks of trouble and love visiting all alike, he joins a chorus as old as time — the voices of Job, who endured ruin yet found faith; of Marcus Aurelius, who ruled an empire yet meditated on loss; of the Buddha, who left his palace to understand pain. From age to age, the lesson remains: that to live is to struggle, and to struggle is to grow.

Consider the story of Abraham Lincoln, the humble son of the frontier who rose to lead a nation through war. Though his name now shines among the great, his life was marked by relentless grief — poverty, political defeat, the loss of children, and the endless weight of a divided country. Yet through all this, he remained gentle of spirit, writing, “I have been driven many times to my knees by the overwhelming conviction that I had nowhere else to go.” In him, we see Gleeson’s truth made flesh: that no station in life spares us from suffering, but those who endure with courage can transform it into wisdom and compassion.

Even the gods of myth were not exempt from pain. The Greeks told of Prometheus, who stole fire for mankind and was bound to a rock for his defiance. The Norse sang of Odin, who hung himself from the World Tree to gain the wisdom of the runes. These stories remind us that even divine beings, in their quest for meaning, must pass through trial. In every tradition, struggle is not punishment, but purification. It is the forge in which the soul is strengthened. Thus, when Gleeson says that “sickness and trouble and worry and love will mess with you at every level of life,” he is not lamenting — he is revealing the fire through which all souls are refined.

There is, too, a quiet beauty in his mention of love among life’s difficulties. For love is both our wound and our healing, our sorrow and our salvation. To love is to open oneself to loss; to care is to risk pain. Yet without it, life loses meaning. Gleeson’s inclusion of love among the forces that “mess with” us is not cynicism — it is reverence. He recognizes that love, though it can break us, is the very force that makes endurance worthwhile. For in love’s turmoil we find our humanity most fully tested — and revealed.

So let this be your teaching, O child of the living world: Do not flee from difficulty, for it is the proof that you are alive. When sorrow comes, do not say, “Why me?” but rather, “Ah, this too is part of the path.” Remember that kings and beggars, saints and sinners, all drink from the same cup of trial. You cannot escape pain, but you can transform it — through gratitude, through patience, through compassion. And when you see another struggling beside you, help them as you would wish to be helped, for their pain is a mirror of your own.

For truly, as Domhnall Gleeson has said, life is difficult for everyone — but it is this shared difficulty that binds us together, that teaches us mercy, and that reveals the quiet glory of being human. The wise do not curse hardship; they use it to deepen their love. Therefore, face each day not with fear, but with courage. Accept the storms as part of the sky, and let gratitude be your shelter. For though the road is hard, it leads to understanding — and in understanding, we find peace.