The myth of a meaning so lost and forgotten
For as long as I can remember, I've always wanted to be either one of two things; happy or dead. All my life I've been working so hard to achieve the former. And yet, I still fundamentally fail. I never wanted a life whereby my net experience was agony. Unfortunately, agony takes up most of my life.
Having grownup in a poor household, I thought that to achieve happiness, I had to work on a more stable livelihood, one that would allow me to afford some of the finer things in life. But the problem is I never quantified what I wanted, never established what would make me happy. I never had dreams of a luxurious career, or a house or a car, I just wanted to be happy. But the more I exist, the more I come to realise that that desire was perhaps a delusion. And I have thus been mostly leaning towards desiring death over what is seemingly unattainable.
I've come to believe that my only purpose in life is to die, and I doubt if I can be truly happy. I've achieved so much, and it meant so little. People praise me, for an intellect I fail to recognise, for my benevolence that has contributed naught to my ultimate goal(the two), and for my external persistence. I don't want to be here anymore.
About six years ago when I was still in high school, I experienced the death of my beloved God( the death of a theistic belief ), and from there on I struggled to find purpose. I understood how atheists could achieve well and meaningful lives (i.e. constructing their purpose in this wretched stain of existence). And so I tried that, and it was hard. I failed to build a purpose around material things for I had very little and could acquire very little.
I tried to quench a thirst of knowledge (or, rather, the thirst of being admired due to being knowledgeable) swallowing empty words. I also tried resolving my dilemma by making my purpose revolve around love. This love could not be with family for we were emotionally distant and somehow were automatically hardwired to intrinsically care for each other despite the apparent emotional and social void. And so the love I experienced was with friends. But this was not enough, it did not make me truly happy. I felt like I was giving more than I was getting. Always emotionally available, but them never being there during my cry outs. I've tried so hard to sustain and form emotional bonds. There were periods I would vent out my statuses, only to be ignored by everyone I thought cared about me. I used to do these checkups on people, managing to get them to express their frustrations and or joys. But they would not be there for me. The were periods I would decide to not reach out to anyone first, and so no one reached to me, not even throughout my cry outs. I was so lonely while supposedly having "friends." And the bonds I had with my digital friends were stronger than those with real life friends, but they lacked tangibility.
Another thing that has been frustrating me is my failure to establish a romantic relationship with anyone. Everyone I've ever approached has rejected me. I do appreciate some constructive criticism but I get none. When I point out that there's something wrong with me I do not see that everyone else who has rejected me sees, my close listeners always tell me there's nothing wrong with me.And that I'll find the "right one one day." Even those that reject me never want to break ties with me, and this makes me feel conflicted. My inability to find love has significantly dwindled my sense of self-worth. All the data points to me being unlovable, and love has essentially become a placeholder for my purpose, and I get none. People can't even use the "go put yourself out there" rhetoric as I am typically praised for my social skills (that were a result of my trying to establish bonds, that emerged from an antisocial past). When I respond to that rhetoric with "There are people who die alone," they are always left speechless. I'm tired of trying and failing. I am tired, boss.
Contrary to my crippling desire for love, I often find myself wishing there was no one who cared about me, no one who admired me and wished to see how I turn out. I feel burdened by the love I get. It burdens me with this continued curse of existence. Of everyone I suspect loves me, I am only certain, to a large extent, about the love my family has for me. My parents are proud of what I turned out to be and the direction I'm headed towards. My siblings want to be like me, I am an ideal example first born figure. Outside of family , I remember little kids wanting to be like me. The friends I have praise my thinking, praise the way I look(in my crippling desire to be loved, I made a gym routine that sculptured me somehow decently), I am applauded for what I am. And I have friends that have, of late, continued my tradition of checking up of people(at least on me). Alas, already I am rotten, and I've
grown weary of preaching things are bad. More on me being this strange animal, I've had encounters where I was told that I'm the happiest looking dude they know. Deep down, I want to cease to exist.
I am in my third year of university. When I chose my degree, I chose it with the criteria of having a decent job security and that I would somehow enjoy the work. Passion, my friends, is dead. In the past years, I was used to getting great marks for the effort I put in. However, as of recently, I've been failing miserably, and I prophesied that my great collapse would come to be once I experienced my first wave of failures two years ago. The prophecy has come to pass, the great collapse is now hither. I have now semi-given up. What's the point? I have nothing that drives me to push through failure. I have no figure I look up to, no tangible goal to force me to push. Even if I do get this degree, it will probably be another achievement that means nothing to me. I've passed by graduation ceremonies and I thought it would suck for me to be dead when my family expects me to graduate. And I find that disturbing, I feel no desire to graduate…to live. What, then, am I fighting for?
I believe the world owes me nothing (those girls never owed me a relationship, those friends never owed me an emotional bond). So do I owe the world my continued existence? I feel so empty and hopeless. I don't even think I hate myself. If I was given the opportunity to be someone else, I would deny it because I wouldn't be me. I tried one therapy session in 2024, and the therapist said what I was feeling was way beyond an existential crisis. I couldn't go further due to financial constraints. Years prior to that session and two years later, I still suffer the same problem.
In the past, I was majorly passively suicidal, but I now see no practical utility in that. I've walked on dark streets alone in the hopes that someone would emerge in the dark with a gun demanding for belongings I deem more valuable than my life(any of them), but nothing happened to me even in a country known for its high crime rates. I fear I'll continue to live and that one day on my death bed, an old withering fool, I'll experience my first and last major life regret— "I should've killed myself in my youth, it wasn't worth it."
For as long as I can remember, I've always wanted to be either one of two things; happy or dead. All my life I've been working so hard to achieve the former. And yet, I still fundamentally fail. I never wanted a life whereby my net experience was agony. Unfortunately, agony takes up most of my life.
Having grownup in a poor household, I thought that to achieve happiness, I had to work on a more stable livelihood, one that would allow me to afford some of the finer things in life. But the problem is I never quantified what I wanted, never established what would make me happy. I never had dreams of a luxurious career, or a house or a car, I just wanted to be happy. But the more I exist, the more I come to realise that that desire was perhaps a delusion. And I have thus been mostly leaning towards desiring death over what is seemingly unattainable.
I've come to believe that my only purpose in life is to die, and I doubt if I can be truly happy. I've achieved so much, and it meant so little. People praise me, for an intellect I fail to recognise, for my benevolence that has contributed naught to my ultimate goal(the two), and for my external persistence. I don't want to be here anymore.
About six years ago when I was still in high school, I experienced the death of my beloved God( the death of a theistic belief ), and from there on I struggled to find purpose. I understood how atheists could achieve well and meaningful lives (i.e. constructing their purpose in this wretched stain of existence). And so I tried that, and it was hard. I failed to build a purpose around material things for I had very little and could acquire very little.
I tried to quench a thirst of knowledge (or, rather, the thirst of being admired due to being knowledgeable) swallowing empty words. I also tried resolving my dilemma by making my purpose revolve around love. This love could not be with family for we were emotionally distant and somehow were automatically hardwired to intrinsically care for each other despite the apparent emotional and social void. And so the love I experienced was with friends. But this was not enough, it did not make me truly happy. I felt like I was giving more than I was getting. Always emotionally available, but them never being there during my cry outs. I've tried so hard to sustain and form emotional bonds. There were periods I would vent out my statuses, only to be ignored by everyone I thought cared about me. I used to do these checkups on people, managing to get them to express their frustrations and or joys. But they would not be there for me. The were periods I would decide to not reach out to anyone first, and so no one reached to me, not even throughout my cry outs. I was so lonely while supposedly having "friends." And the bonds I had with my digital friends were stronger than those with real life friends, but they lacked tangibility.
Another thing that has been frustrating me is my failure to establish a romantic relationship with anyone. Everyone I've ever approached has rejected me. I do appreciate some constructive criticism but I get none. When I point out that there's something wrong with me I do not see that everyone else who has rejected me sees, my close listeners always tell me there's nothing wrong with me.And that I'll find the "right one one day." Even those that reject me never want to break ties with me, and this makes me feel conflicted. My inability to find love has significantly dwindled my sense of self-worth. All the data points to me being unlovable, and love has essentially become a placeholder for my purpose, and I get none. People can't even use the "go put yourself out there" rhetoric as I am typically praised for my social skills (that were a result of my trying to establish bonds, that emerged from an antisocial past). When I respond to that rhetoric with "There are people who die alone," they are always left speechless. I'm tired of trying and failing. I am tired, boss.
Contrary to my crippling desire for love, I often find myself wishing there was no one who cared about me, no one who admired me and wished to see how I turn out. I feel burdened by the love I get. It burdens me with this continued curse of existence. Of everyone I suspect loves me, I am only certain, to a large extent, about the love my family has for me. My parents are proud of what I turned out to be and the direction I'm headed towards. My siblings want to be like me, I am an ideal example first born figure. Outside of family , I remember little kids wanting to be like me. The friends I have praise my thinking, praise the way I look(in my crippling desire to be loved, I made a gym routine that sculptured me somehow decently), I am applauded for what I am. And I have friends that have, of late, continued my tradition of checking up of people(at least on me). Alas, already I am rotten, and I've
grown weary of preaching things are bad. More on me being this strange animal, I've had encounters where I was told that I'm the happiest looking dude they know. Deep down, I want to cease to exist.
I am in my third year of university. When I chose my degree, I chose it with the criteria of having a decent job security and that I would somehow enjoy the work. Passion, my friends, is dead. In the past years, I was used to getting great marks for the effort I put in. However, as of recently, I've been failing miserably, and I prophesied that my great collapse would come to be once I experienced my first wave of failures two years ago. The prophecy has come to pass, the great collapse is now hither. I have now semi-given up. What's the point? I have nothing that drives me to push through failure. I have no figure I look up to, no tangible goal to force me to push. Even if I do get this degree, it will probably be another achievement that means nothing to me. I've passed by graduation ceremonies and I thought it would suck for me to be dead when my family expects me to graduate. And I find that disturbing, I feel no desire to graduate…to live. What, then, am I fighting for?
I believe the world owes me nothing (those girls never owed me a relationship, those friends never owed me an emotional bond). So do I owe the world my continued existence? I feel so empty and hopeless. I don't even think I hate myself. If I was given the opportunity to be someone else, I would deny it because I wouldn't be me. I tried one therapy session in 2024, and the therapist said what I was feeling was way beyond an existential crisis. I couldn't go further due to financial constraints. Years prior to that session and two years later, I still suffer the same problem.
In the past, I was majorly passively suicidal, but I now see no practical utility in that. I've walked on dark streets alone in the hopes that someone would emerge in the dark with a gun demanding for belongings I deem more valuable than my life(any of them), but nothing happened to me even in a country known for its high crime rates. I fear I'll continue to live and that one day on my death bed, an old withering fool, I'll experience my first and last major life regret— "I should've killed myself in my youth, it wasn't worth it."
