The existential pit

Okay, I’ll admit it. I just liked the sound of the combination of the words that make up the title of this post and that is why I’ve named it so. There you go, Waywardness (yeah, with a ‘W’, you grammar pedant) exemplified perfectly. So now what? I have a post title, I am literate, I have an internet connection, and I am over-smart and arrogant – voila, a perfect combination of the ingredients required for churning out another one of those blog posts no one gives a damn about. No, not even me; I kind of get surprised on receiving a notification from my WordPress app about getting a new view (or views, perhaps) on any of my posts so far.

Currently, I am going through a phase in life (ahh, the generic teenager issues) often referred to as an existential crisis – yeah, I am just twenty years old, and I acknowledge that. You may say (in case you’re older than I am) that I am blowing things out of proportion here, or that I am not mature enough to comment on crises in life, or something similar that may just belittle my woes – and I fully respect that. You may discontinue at this point. To the others, who believe in the concept of free speech and are open-minded enough to listen to what a twentysomething has to say about what he keeps on thinking about endlessly, I would like to say that you’re continuing because you’ve been through or probably are going through a similar phase in life – after all, we’re humans, and most of us think on scarily similar lines. Let me just give a disclaimer – this post isn’t going to provide you solutions to tackle this ‘crisis,’ because, as you must have known by now, I am direly in need of one myself. It’s just that I wish to express it at some tip of the world wide web, so that later in life when I’m (hopefully) in a much more comfortable position to comment on existentialism, I’ll look back at this post and just give a smile. Again, it all relies on my living long enough, and actually reaching a ‘comfortable’ phase later on. Fingers crossed.

What bothers me most is my utter lack of ambition in life. People generally have goals, targets, perhaps direction too, in their lives. Well, not everyone, though. I wouldn’t be wrong, objectively, if I stated that there are several thousands of teenagers like me in the world who have no clue what they want from life. Heck, I daresay that very few actually have the privilege of growing up comfortably without witnessing violence or poverty around that they get enough time to think about ‘what they want from life.’ But the catch here is that one cannot simply say that because someone is poorer than them their life is worse – it may well be the other way around. When you’re born poor or live in war-stricken areas, just getting through to the next day is an uphill task – there’s always that fear of what might happen at any point. Considering this perspective, all my issues related to ‘life’ and such insecurities definitely appear minuscule – I have time to think about such stuff without having to worry whether I’ll be alive within the next couple of hours or not – I have heard this repeatedly from people, read this in books, and thought about it over and over again – but somehow this just doesn’t make things better. I still am clueless in life, and just by getting to know that people are supposedly worse off, I wouldn’t feel much better. For all you know, the people we consider to be pitiful might just be the most satisfied people on the planet! They’re human too, and they do have their own identity; the more you think of pitying them, the more you make things awkward between fellow humans. We all have a good idea about ourselves – how we think, what our instincts tell us, how we react to situations – so we need not classify the ‘others’ separately.

Back to the point, though. I feel I am falling into the ‘existential pit,’ a mindset in which everything appears dull and you question everything around – no, it’s not depression, but rather a cold approach to life. I mean, books, music and art are still enjoyable, but the generic question that ‘Why is everything the way it is?’ is just messing around with my mind. There is definitely no objective answer, and attempts to understand it all begin with ‘perhaps.’ Why do people work? Why are some parts of the world at war? Why don’t people simply talk over matters and sort issues out? Why is it that hard work is considered a virtue? Don’t we all die anyway? So why do we put ourselves in discomfort throughout our lives? Just so that in the last years of our lives we can be proud of our achievements?

I guess you’ve got the hang of it – it’s just such questions that are wreaking havoc in my mental machinery. In fact, this entire post was born of a wayward idea because I wanted to try my hand at writing (typing, technically). So, figuratively, I am simply drifting in life and am feeling quite aimless right now. All my childhood ambitions seem to be mere fakes, as I have quite accepted that no one is ‘meant to be’ how they are or ‘born to do’ whatever their ‘true calling’ is – it all seems to be a decade-long delusion. So, at this point, it seems impossible to tell how I’ll even feel or think after half an hour – waywardness, mate.

Cynical? Depressing? Maybe. But that is how many of us think. Can’t help but utter these words out on some blog post.



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