On Existence that is the Same as Non-Existence

Fair warning to the reader: Long rant ahead. About life. About non-life. Label it as me PMSing if you must, that is easily the most popular opinion/response I get on thoughts such as these. For others, if there are any such others, I’d love to hear from you if you have a differential diagnosis.


I’ve been preoccupied lately, trying to understand the purpose of existence. No, not in the way the great philosophers questioned the relevance of humans in the greater scheme of the universe. I’ve been wondering about my existence at this point in my life. Insert here thoughts of whatever worries you. Whatever your fears. Whatever your insecurities. Your list and mine might be different but the point is not for me to articulate my issues. It is to give you a sense of how I am feeling right now, what I’m struggling with. Simply, my existence.

My foul, irritable, wtf mood took me out on an hour long walk. It wasn’t my “walk” day. And yet, walk I did. All I saw around me was cacophony. Not just heard it. But saw it. People, just way too many people. Couples, just way too many couples. Even dogs, way too many dogs. You know how I felt in those 60 minutes? Insignificant.

In that small space of the universe, 1.5 km in length (double up the track for my circuit), all I could think of was, how am I any different, from any man, woman or child I see right now? Apart from the fact that my very pink shoes make me stand out, there is nothing about me anyone on that track has any reason to recall. And then imagine the vast world out there. The parts inhabited by me and the parts that don’t even know of my existence. I’m as good as non-existent, ain’t I?

But then there was solace to be found as well. In the setting sun. In the raging waters. In the clouds gathering together, quite uncertain of whether to descend onto the earth or stay collected for a while longer. Those things, larger than me, larger than life, made me feel significant. For who would admire the beauty that exists all around, if not for the senses of the admirer?

It is this constant battle I fight. The one where I seek inspiration. I look for it in everything I interact with. In people. In places. In projects. But what hasn’t struck me yet is that one thing that can claim me. Consume me. Annihilate me even. I have tons of passion projects. But none of those has what I am looking for. Not a sense of achievement. Not some monetary or emotional gain. Not power or fame. But a far larger purpose. The worst bit is that I can’t even lay my finger on what the definition of that larger purpose might be.

I have come this far in life, three decades of existence, and yet, I have no sense of what the big picture is. I know where I’m headed, or at least where I think I am headed. I have my goals in place. My ambitions. My supporters (as well as detractors). My biggest cheerleader who is not related to me by blood (@SB). My family. It is all as you imagine life needs to be.

But it isn’t enough. It isn’t greed for more. It isn’t ingratitude towards what I already have. It is this sense of insignificance because I don’t know the why of it. Of the missing context. Of irreplaceability. Of an insatiable craving for a companion who might not even exist. 

It is the kind of existence that feels like non-existence.

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