Existential Crisis

There is nothing called life, but just living, understanding and surviving. everyone is running a race, not knowing what exactly is their beginning, middle and end. I am one of the everyone, a firm believer of not knowing my existence. it is not new, the struggle to find myself is not new. Who got the real meaning of life, the real essence of survive and the real meaning of understanding it with depth. I’ve seen people talking about it as if they know it inside out, they teach patience and calmness, like it is a solution everyone needs to know, at least pretend to know.

But, here I am not going to talk about any such saint, a preach or a survival kit, but experience, like it is an old rum, gets worth taste with time. Twenty-five years old of my existence and the meaning I hold. I am me, may be or may be not, or I am shows I watch, movies I adapt and of course books I read. Days I become a romantic person, fanaticizing about it like a dead soul, days I try to become a protestor, a wanna be world changer but what I failed to know is what I exactly desire. This is waste, this constant search to know who I am is waste? What can we do about it, nothing! Until I get to know about it, I am going to live it exploring. Why should we waste a min, even a second figuring things out, which are beyond our control. We should stop dreaming and holding things which we can’t understand, because understanding everything is not our choice. If you make choices and fails to fulfill, you suffer. My days are full of sufferings, sufferings which may be minimal when talk about as a whole. yes, minimal.

But, what are these sufferings? I suffer when I wake up, suffer to get my perfect black coffee at 6 am, then the suffering intensifies with every passing minute I want to work out, but needs a push, then taking cold shower at 7;30 am is another task, you see rising and feeling fresh feels a task, until achieved. My struggle sounds minimal, but its real. I don’t want to exaggerate but just question my existence with other monotonous routine I am following, loving many things at a time, but passionate about only one. let’s end it here, knowing what will be my existence will kill the energy and point of living, is it?