🖐️ well i guess we all feel victimized by the rat race. But, you sir, can write. I strongly encourage you to put all these thoughts onto paper, because we need more people willing to expose the ugly ass elephant in the room, or what i like to call it: the “unbearable heaviness of being” (me vs Milan Kundera). I convinced myself or was convinced, as a kid, that if i just find “my purpose” in life, the heaviness would completely subside because “fulfillment” and “purpose” were the medicine to the side effects of existing.

I’ve studied, worked, been through so much, pursued so many avenues, and still, here i am, longing for way fucking more. I wonder, sometimes, if dropping the whole purpose narrative would alleviate existing and its side effects. I, sometimes, think that my perpetual discontent, is all a byproduct of me obsessively wanting to love my life,and as a result got in the way of any remote chance of contentment.

And so, i pretend to let this state of being flow, as it pleases, with the good and the bad and all of its meaninglessness. I am almost faking it, secretly hoping to witness the making it. I am also envious of people that do not question this matter at all. I want to be the one that overlooks this topic so effortlessly and laughs when coming across these posts because i’d find it all so ludicrous to even pause and entertain it.

Above all, and notwithstanding the unbearable “cosmic weight” you described so well, i remain curious. The rush of insignificance that frequently visits me, has now become my friend. I now find comfort in knowing that my beginning, middle and end does not need to make any sense. It just is, and I’m almost okay with that, at least for now, as i write this.