Existential Musings

I feel we live in a time where existentialism has a new meaning, or maybe just paraphrased a little. It’s not the one that Sartre spoke of or what Camus wrote about. The world is no longer absurd or meaningless. Everything is clear, we see it every day. It’s not that we can’t find a purpose in life as well. Indeed there is a lot to look forward, a lot of ways to make a meaning out of your life, defining yourself and perhaps doing some good in the end. But sometimes the world is just too big and sometimes you feel too small, really small. There is a lot going on in the world today, suffocating and packed is what I feel. It’s like being forcefully shoved into a locker or more realistically speaking, a crowded bus. Of suffocating and helplessness; helplessness and pain; pain and suffering; suffering and suffocating. The endless cycle that we live in and the world still grows bigger and I feel small, tiny, like a speck of dust or a drop of blood, whichever you see first. Dostoevsky (that existentialist before existentialism was cool) said that mans stubbornness to prove his point is why the world is what it is. The answer then, my friend, is perhaps a little less stubbornness.

A part of me, a big part of me, wants to remain small, unknown, oblivious and numb. For what would happen if we started to feel, I dare ask. Having a few close ones, friends who share your ideologies, just a handful to take me through life is enough. Being known is daunting, it’s scary. In a world where internet and social media has made everyone more vocal, do you ever find someone being loved unanimously? And who wants to run that risk of being loved when there is so much hate in the world. God would probably hate the internet. But these paragraphs seem disconnected, absurd even. My mind, when speaking on this topic, is particularly incoherent.

Why do we have that one room that’s all our own? That one room you can always go to when the world gets too much to take. It’s in this room that you feel like you’re back in an empty dream, alone and at peace, not having to share it with anybody, not letting anyone in. Why is it that we need this room? The answer might be a little biased coming from an introvert. But then again, in a new age of existentialism, aren’t more people just like me? I could be wrong and I probably lost a few readers on my way today. But the few that stayed on may have found something. A few, I’ve always liked a few. A few is what I need to get through life. So to the few out there reading this, I’m glad you exist.


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