Questions of a twenty-something who feels life has reached its end

I was in the middle of my lecture when it dawned on me that I have so many suppressed resentments inside me. I am stuck in this humdrum of pedantry set in the context of futile existence. In my subconscious, I cannot anymore remember how many times I asked this question: “will there be somebody who will shed tears for me in case I die right at this moment?”

We all think that what we are doing is indispensable, and that as a person we are indispensable, but how many times have we been proved wrong? That the world will remain as it is even after we die? That our family will grieve, yes, for a while, but live their own lives (and forget about us) after we die?

Why am I doing all these things? Before I thought that the best answer to this question is that these make me a better person. But after I have proved to myself that I have indeed become a better person, what is next? Being the best person is the logical next step, I know. Although it is impossible to achieve, for the sake of argument, let’s say it is possible. The lingering “so what?” remains.

Questions that reminded me of the philosopher in Ecclesiastes.

I was almost in a trance. Philosophical realizations are like this – they occur in the middle of a very mundane task, something that I don’t think as inspiring enough to cause me to ask questions that I know I will not have any concrete answer now or anytime soon. My student laughed at the joke I just told. This reaction is too seldom when you teach something in English to foreigners whose mother language is world apart from English.

A glimmer of hope, I thought.

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