I’m just another Indian guy, statistically insignificant, writing thoughts no one asked for. I don’t write to teach, impress, or resolve anything. I write because I exist without guarantee of being read. In a world that doesn’t notice most of us, this blog is simply proof that I was here, thinking, even if quietly.
I didn’t start this project with questions about class, psychology, or morality. I started it with a much simpler assumption, that this was something that needed to be done and that delaying it would somehow mean falling behind. At no point did it feel like a decision in the way important decisions are supposed to feel, it felt closer to alignment, like adjusting something that had been slightly off for a long time. Only much later did I realise that what felt natural and obvious was not neutral at all, but learned, inherited, and quietly reinforced by everything around me.
I often ask myself why I should not end my life, and the answers I found are small and stubborn. One extra day to see what happens. A duty to live with some respect for myself and the world. The chance to express the version of me that exists right now, imperfect and honest. These are not solutions, just practical tools I can use to keep walking forward each day.
A reflective piece on loneliness, meaning, and the quiet struggles hidden beneath ordinary lives. Drawing on existential thought and everyday experience, it explores how we construct stories, wrestle with the unknowability of others, and confront the absurdity of living.
There’s only a finite amount of time and space in the universe, and in your life. Don’t take this too philosophically. But don’t ignore it either.
In a world built for shortcuts and surface-level survival, some of us can’t look away. We don’t move fast. We don’t move on. We endure! not for clarity or reward, but because something in us refuses to lie. This isn’t wisdom. It’s not virtue. It’s the weight of being awake when everyone else is busy forgetting. This is the life of endurance.