What makes Seneca's wisdom sting is the word "dependence"—he's not merely saying we should stop worrying, but that our happiness has become *enslaved* to what hasn't happened yet. We've made our joy conditional, a loan we'll cash in only when promotion comes or the relationship stabilizes or the pandemic ends. The insight cuts deeper than surface optimism because Seneca, writing from house arrest under a tyrant, knew that waiting for perfect circumstances is itself a form of captivity. Consider the parent who postpones genuine contentment until their child graduates, then until they're married, then until the grandchildren arrive—by then, the present moments that made up their actual life have already passed, unlived.